The Long Goodbye
by HR always live on
Summary: HR again! A multi chapter fic, which gets a little dark. Post S10. Harry and Ruth are married, happy and expecting their first child. Then he is kidnapped and tortured, leaving Ruth alone. Will he find his way home? Will he be whole if he ever does?..Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Set post S10 and does get a bit dark, so here's your warning. Just a small chapter to start. **

* * *

Ruth awoke to an uncomfortable pressure against her abdomen. The baby was kicking, hard and she gasped. An arm slipped around her waist, or what used to be her waist and she smiled. "You okay?" his hoarse voice murmured into her ear.

"Mm," she said. "Your son is using my stomach as a football."

"That's my boy," Harry said, clearly thrilled as his hand rested against her belly. "Though it won't be football. It'll be rugby."

"Oh, of course," she said. "I forgot."

"It's important Ruth," he said, whispering in her ear before kissing her skin gently. "We have to have our son play rugby, not football."

"What about cricket?" she asked sleepily.

"Oh, I forgot about cricket," he said. "Mind you, with the way the England team is playing at the moment, a toddler might be an improvement."

Ruth laughed and turned to kiss him deeply. "Good morning," she whispered.

"Mm," he said. His hand slid down over her body until her cupped her bum and she moaned.

"I love the way you touch me," she whispered.

"I love touching you," he said and she laughed again.

"I love you," she said honestly.

"Oh, I recognise that hint," he said. "You want me to make you breakfast."

"Well, yes," she admitted. "But I do love you."

He kissed her deeply again. "You finished the marmite yesterday," he said in between kisses. "None for your toast."

"Oh," she moaned, pouting at him. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip delicately, making her shiver. Then his hands lowered to her breasts and she began to forget about being hungry at all.

"If you can wait half an hour, I'll go out and get you some marmite," he said.

"And milk. And bread," she said as his thumbs circled her sensitive nipples delightfully, making her lose her train of thought.

"Later," he said. He bent to her and sucked her nipple delicately. "I have something very important to do right now."

"Oh yes…" He chuckled, then bent to his work.

* * *

"I'll be back in an hour," he said, leaving her in bed, the sheets rumpled around her after their rather pleasurable morning activities. The shops were about a twenty minute drive from their cottage in the middle of nowhere. They liked having a cottage here, with no neighbours and no habitation for at least three miles in every direction. Even so, it was a beautiful cottage, and perfect for the two (soon to become three) of them. "I need to get some petrol for the car too."

"Take your time," she said. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Good," he said. "You need your rest, for the baby if nothing else."

"Go," she said lightly. "I'll be here." He kissed her goodbye, a long lingering kiss.

"I love you."

"I'll love you more with marmite and bread." He laughed, getting the point immediately.

"See you soon." He left and Ruth managed to stay awake until she heard the car drive off and then collapsed into sleep. It was hard work, carrying and growing a baby.

That was the last time Ruth saw her husband.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews for the first chapter. I know Adam is dead in canon by this point, but for this story he's alive.**

* * *

**A year later**

Ruth awoke with her heart racing to the baby screaming. Not just crying, screaming. She was out of bed and in her daughters bedroom before she consciously made the decision to move.

"It's all right," she soothed as she picked up her eleven month old child. Her soothing was barely audible over her screaming. "Come on darling, it's okay," Ruth murmured, rocking Lucy up and down. The screaming had lost it's high terrified pitch, but was still loud enough to make Ruth's hair stand on end.

It took a good twenty minutes, but she managed to calm her daughter back into sleep. Once she was, Ruth put her down in the cot and closed her eyes. Without knowing how she knew it, she knew. That today would be the day when Harry's absence was explained. For a year, she'd known nothing except the fact that he'd been taken by unfriendly forces, probably Russian. But she hadn't been in a position to do anything. With the last stages of her pregnancy, and then a newborn child to deal with, she hadn't had a chance to get her clearance applied and go back to the grid to hunt him down. And then the trail had gone cold and it had been too late. The guilt she felt at not being able to find Harry was enormous, almost as bad as the loss and loneliness she felt with his absence.

Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to wallow in her grief, it was impossible to do that when a newborn baby required all of her attention every second of the day. But after a year, she thought the trail would have gone cold. But she still had a feeling that it would be today.

So when a car drove up her driveway at midday, she wasn't that surprised to see Lucas and Adam get out of it. Ruth ran outside, clutching Lucy tight in her arms.

"Tell me," she said, before they'd even closed the car doors. "I need to know, just tell me."

"Do you want to put her down?" Adam said.

"No," she replied. "I don't want to let her out of my sight right now."

"Ruth, I'm so sorry," Adam said.

"You've found him," she said heavily. It wasn't a question, and if Harry were alive after they'd found him, he'd be here with her right now.

"Yes," Lucas said, as Adam stayed silent. "I'm sorry."

"What happened to him?" she asked, trying to keep her composure. Trying not to scream and cry and fall apart while she held her daughter.

"Ruth, don't," Adam said. "You just…"

"How did my husband die?" she asked, a note of steel in her voice. "I need to know."

"We're not sure," Lucas said. "Tests are being done on… but it's going to take a while with the condition he was in."

"Adam," she said, pleading. Her blue eyes were wet with tears which she wasn't allowing to fall. She couldn't afford to fall apart until she knew everything.

"He's been burnt," he said. "Identified through dental records, and no is the answer to your next question."

"What was my next question?" she asked.

"You can't see him," Adam said. "You know perfectly well what bodies look like when they've been subjected to that. I am not going to let you see him in that state."

She nodded, because Adam was right. She didn't want to see Harry like that. Her Harry burnt until there was nothing left to recognise him by, except his teeth. That wasn't the essence of the man she'd married. "Thank you for telling me," she said quietly. "I assumed he was dead after so long, but… who took him?"

"We think it was originally the Russians. A splinter group of dissatisfied ex FSB. Then… he was passed on," Lucas said. "Sold to other… less kind people."

"How long?" she asked. "How long has he been dead?"

"We don't know," Adam said. "It looks like three or four weeks."

"So he's been tortured, for nearly a year. Constantly tortured," she stated blankly. "Let me know when I can have the body back… for the f… f… funeral," she eventually managed, her voice wavering.

"I will," Adam said. "Do you need anything?" he asked kindly.

"Nothing you can give me." She turned and left them, going back into her house. She didn't fall apart until she'd put Lucy down in her crib, then she let the tears fall. She let the complete devastation of his loss overwhelm her and drown her, wondering if she'd ever stop crying from the hole in her heart.

* * *

_Meanwhile, somewhere in Ukraine..._

After so many days on the cold concrete floor in a room too short to stand up in, he was beginning to lose his mind. He hadn't eaten in… he didn't even know. He was desperately hungry and kept slipping in and out of consciousness. He was so weak he wondered how long he could survive in this state. Days? Hours? Maybe even minutes.

The hatch opened and Harry wondered what torture he'd be subjected to next. A pair of arms reached for him, pulling him out of his concrete cage, and he blacked out due to the pain in his damaged arm.

He came around to ice cold water being thrown on his face. He spluttered, gasping for breath.

"Eat." He saw a plate of hot food, and knew it would be drugged, but he felt too hungry to care. He wolfed it down, as quickly as he could without risking bringing it back up.

"Your "body" has been sent back to England," the interrogator said.

"How?" he managed to find the energy to ask.

"Well, we've… fiddled with the official dental records. So when a completely unrecognisable body, or burnt skeleton really, arrives in Britain, it'll be accepted as Harry Pearce without question."

"Why would you do that?" he asked. "Why convince the world that I'm dead?"

"You have friends in London," the Russian said. "Friends I would prefer stopped looking for you."

"My wife," he said after a moment. "She won't believe a fake corpse."

"She will. There is absolutely nothing left to identify you. She'll have no choice. Your poor daughter. Growing up without a daddy. Would you like more food?"

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. He had no idea if Ruth had had a son or a daughter. Every time the child was mentioned, the story he was told changed, including a stillborn. But he didn't think that was the case. If it were, they wouldn't still be mentioning his child with such regularity.

He reached for the glass of water, sipping slowly. He didn't know when he'd get another, and right now when he wasn't being beaten, he let his mind go to Ruth. He hoped she was happy in motherhood. Of course she was, she'd almost glowed thinking about their baby. They'd thought it'd be a boy, but they'd never known for sure. He was regretting that right now. It would be so nice to know for certain.

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**More soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

Ruth lay somewhere between waking and sleeping, the month after Lucy's first birthday when it first happened. She saw Harry. A ghost? An apparition? A dream? She didn't know, but she didn't move. Didn't even blink in case he vanished. She lay on her side, watching her husband approaching her. He wore trousers and a shirt with several buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. She smiled at him, his hazel eyes twinkling at her.

"You should cut your hair," he said. "Take care of yourself a bit more."

"I'm a widow with a one year old," she said. "I don't have time for me."

"How is she?"

"Precocious," Ruth replied. "Gorgeous. Bright. She reminds me of you."

"Poor girl. How are you?"

"I miss you. I've wanted to look at your face for so long, I'm frightened to wake up."

"Ruth, you're too beautiful and young to waste your life pining after me," he said gently. He knelt down by the bed and she was only a few inches from his face.

"Would you move onto another woman?"

"No," Harry said. "Of course I wouldn't. But I'm old and miserable and it took me decades to find someone who'd put up with me." She laughed. "You're so beautiful when you laugh, Ruth."

"No one says my name the way you do," she said with a sigh.

"I love you, Ruth."

"I love you. Even though you've gone and left me."

"I didn't want to," he said. "Don't you think I'd much rather be with you and our girl?"

"I know," she said. "Still miss you though." He leaned over her and kissed her, lips soft and gentle against hers.

"You can let me go," he said quietly. "I won't think it means you loved me any less than I know you did."

"Do," she corrected gently. "Maybe one day."

"But not yet," he said.

"No," she agreed. "Not yet."

"Goodbye Ruth," he said, turning for the door.

"Don't leave me," she said desperately.

"I'm not really here," he said. "So I suppose I can not be here for a little longer." She smiled at him, feeling the ache in her heart when she remembered that her husband was no more than a hallucination. Closing her eyes, she held onto the image of Harry she had. It was all she had left.

* * *

**_18 months on_**

Ruth slept in late. She finally awoke, feeling more well rested than she had in months. Turning over, she looked at the clock. Half past ten in the morning. Lucy. Oh God, why hadn't her daughter woken her? Lucy always woke her if she overslept. She threw her dressing gown on and raced to her daughters room. Empty.

"Lucy!" she called, trying to keep the panic at bay, hurrying down the stairs. "Lucy!"  
"Calm down, we're in here." She recognised the voice and felt the fear let go a fraction. Hurrying into the kitchen she found her mother and her daughter sat around the kitchen table. Clearly they'd had breakfast and had now moved on to colouring.

"Mum, what are you doing here?" she asked, smiling slightly at her daughter, the crayons going far outside the lines and onto the newspaper guarding her lovely wooden table. Ruth smiled at her mother. It had been an awfully long time since she'd seen her. She gave her mother a brief hug before looking at her daughter.  
"I thought it was time for a visit," she said. "I let you sleep in, thought you needed it. And I haven't seen my granddaughter in ages!," Elizabeth added to Lucy who smiled. "You got bigger!"

"Up," Lucy said, turning back to her drawing.

"Yes, you got taller sweetheart," Ruth said, knowing what her sometimes random words meant. "It's good to see you, mum."

"I want to talk to you," Elizabeth said. "Without ears prying," she added, looking at Lucy.

"Okay. Later, when she has her N-A-P," Ruth agreed.

* * *

Sure enough, when Lucy fell asleep that afternoon, Elizabeth made them tea and Ruth had an ominous feeling when she sat opposite her mother. "Why did you come here mum?" she asked. "I'm pleased to see you, of course I am, but you usually call first."

"I'm incredibly worried about you," Elizabeth said. "You don't do anything. You spend all your time with Lucy, and as much as you love her, that's not healthy."

"I know," Ruth agreed. "I'm almost terrified to let her out of my sight. And it's not as if I have anywhere else to be or anything to do with my time."

"That's what I'm saying," Elizabeth said gently. "You need to move on."

"My husband is dead," Ruth said, determined to keep herself held together. "I can't get over that. I can't just go out and replace him with another man."

"I know," Elizabeth replied. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying you need to stop living in your grief. It's been two and a half years since he was… taken."

"I know," Ruth said darkly.

"I am not asking you to replace Harry," she said. "I know that can't be done and I know you love him." Ruth felt a deep appreciation that her mother hadn't used the past tense. It was still current for her. She did still love him, dead or not.

"I think it would do you good to put Lucy in playgroup," her mother continued. "Just one afternoon a week, or something like that. It might do her some good to interact with children her own age. Then you could have some time for you to do whatever you like. Which I know would do you some good. Get a job in a book shop, go to a library, go walking, take up knitting. Whatever it is that makes you happy. Just an hour or two for you. To do something you enjoy."

"I'll think about it," she said. "I'm not saying it's a bad idea, but I need to give it time. To consider."

"Okay," Elizabeth said. "Do."

"I miss him," Ruth said. She never let herself talk about Harry, as if talking would suddenly make it real. "I sometimes wake up, thinking he'll be lying next to me. That nothings changed and he'll hold me and tell me it's all going to be all right. I turn to tell him what Lucy's done in the day, then realise he's never going to know. I love him so much."

"I know you do darling," her mother said. Elizabeth pulled her daughter in for a hug, and Ruth fell apart, crying into her mothers shoulder.

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**Have a bit of faith! It will get better. Thanks for the reviews and encouragement on the story so far.**


	4. Chapter 4

She'd taken her mothers advice. It'd been six months and Lucy was in playgroup three afternoons a week. She loved it. She thrived on it and came home bubbling with her friends activities until bedtime. It also gave Ruth some time to herself. At first she hadn't known what to do with the sudden influx of spare time she had on her hands. Without the demands of a precious yet exhausting two year old, she had time to think. For a week or two, in those spare afternoons she could do nothing but cry over Harry. Her husband who was missing those small things that their daughter did everyday. The man she still turned to in the middle of the night, thinking he was still with her.

Then time passed, and she'd needed something to fill her time. So she'd got a small part time job in a book shop, two afternoons a week. She didn't need the money, Harry had left them incredibly well taken care of, and she had her MI5 pension too. But it did keep her busy. On her last free afternoon of the week, she went swimming in the ocean. It was exhilarating and invigorating. She loved it, more than she expected to. For a few moments each week, she almost felt alive again. She didn't miss Harry any less, but it was getting slightly easier to bear his death. To go on without him.

She sat at the bookshop, behind the counter, reading the latest best seller (which was less than thrilling). It was a quiet day so she had the spare time to read, when the doorbell rang above the shop. Looking up, she smiled seeing Chris walk in. Reaching under the counter, she picked up the books he'd ordered last week and he grinned at her.

"Oh, thanks Ruth," he said, looking through them. "That's great. What do I owe you?"

"Let me just check," she said, scanning the books through. "You're still missing "The history of Persia," she added. "On backorder."

He shrugged good naturedly. He'd been waiting for that particular book for a long time. "What do you do with your spare time?" he asked

"I don't have much spare time with a three year old daughter," she said easily.

"Not enough time to go out to dinner with me?" Ruth looked down at the counter as those words bounced around her head. It wasn't a total surprise as Chris came in every week to the bookshop. She had also noticed that he only browsed when she was there, and she knew he was attracted to her. But she hadn't even begun to think about her own feelings. Chris was pleasant intelligent company who she could, and did discuss literature with. But beyond that…

"I'm serious," he added to her silence. "Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

"Does the wedding ring not put you off?" she asked, to buy herself some time. His eyes went to her left hand for a moment, seeing not only her gold wedding band but the rather large diamond engagement ring too.

"I thought… you told me you were a widow," he said softly. Had she told him that? She couldn't remember.

"I am," she said. "Yes, my husband's died." She felt a lump come to her throat, even after all this time at the thought of Harry. Then pushed away her thoughts of him. The moment she tried to stop thinking of Harry, she knew what she wanted to do. If she hadn't wanted to go out with Chris, she'd have clung on to the mental image of Harry at this moment. But she'd pushed it aside. Maybe she did want dinner with him.

"Don't worry," he said easily, taking her long silence for a no. "If you don't want to, it's fine. You don't have to let me down easily." He smiled at her, and she realised he meant it. He wouldn't push her, and it made her want to go out with him all the more. "I'll see you next week. Maybe the Persian book will be here by then." He left some bank notes on the counter without waiting for change and turned to leave, so as not to embarrass her further.

"Actually, I was going to say yes," she said, her voice making him turn. "If you want to, and if I can get someone trustworthy to look after Lucy, then yes."

"Really?" he asked, blue eyes twinkling at her.

"Yes."

"That's great. Can I book a table for Saturday night?"

"No," she said. "Babysitters seem to charge double for Saturdays. Sunday?"

"Perfect," he said. "I'll call when I've booked a table."

"Great," she said. He left the bookshop and she watched him leave, wondering if this was a good thing or a bad one. All in all, she felt it was a good thing.

* * *

Harry felt a lessening of the tension as the plane touched down on the runway at Gatwick airport. London. Home. Ruth. Their family. He knew he wouldn't be able to see them straight away, but he was an awful lot closer to them now. He needed help before he would trust himself around his wife and young child. If he snapped as a result of his torture and imprisonment, he wasn't going to do it anywhere near them. Even if it meant a longer separation than necessary, he wouldn't risk hurting them. He'd been gone for three years, what would a few more weeks matter? He knew what the after effects of his torture might be. He'd seen it too often before to assume he'd be "normal" afterwards.

Even so, it felt nice to be back on British soil.

* * *

"I have to go," Ruth said, very late Sunday night. Chris lay in bed, nothing but the duvet covering him and a smile on his face. "I need to get home. Lucy, the babysitter."

"I understand," he said, still smiling.

"I don't normally do this," she said, zipping up her dress. "I _never_ do this." Her lips twitched with a smile though. She'd enjoyed it thoroughly, and it'd been a long time since she'd had sex. It could never be more than casual because she wasn't nearly ready to give her heart to someone. She probably never would be. Leaning over the bed she kissed him goodbye.

"Am I going to see you again?" he asked.

"Unless you decide to buy your books elsewhere," she said, smiling slightly.

"I meant…"

"I know what you meant," she said. "I don't know. We'll… just see what happens." She personally doubted it. Fun as it had been, this was just casual and not destined to be repeated.

"Okay," he said with an easy grin on his face. "Go home." She did.

* * *

The next morning Ruth was woken far, far earlier than she would have liked by the phone ringing. Groaning, she reached for her mobile, then realised it was the landline. She hurried to answer it, in case it was important.

"I'm here," she said breathlessly as she grabbed the phone. "Hello?" Nothing. Total silence on the end of the phone. "Hello? Is there anyone there?" she asked. Still nothing, but the line was still connected. "If you're going to ring at six in the morning, the least you could do would be to tell my your name," she said, losing her patience. There was a click on the line, then the dialling tone rang through her ear. Fine, she thought with irritation. Fine, just disturb my sleep and say nothing. Even if it's a wrong number, the least you could do was say sorry.

"Mama?" came a bleary voice. She looked at the top of the stairs to find Lucy rubbing her eyes.

"Morning sweetheart," Ruth said, forcing a smile. "Sleep well?"

"I 'ungry."

"Breakfast then," she said. "Come on down to the kitchen." Lucy came down stairs, her pink pyjamas short around the ankles again. She'd need new ones, Ruth thought as she went into the kitchen, pausing only to hug her daughter good morning.

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**More soon. Thanks for the reviews so far.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Enjoy!**

* * *

_**One Month Later**_

"Thank you," Ruth said, signing the bill the mechanic had given her. He smiled, then drove off as she looked at her car. Really it had been a quick fix, but it was still annoying to have to wait several hours for the mechanic to show up with the replacement part for her engine. Annoyingly expensive too. Now her car was fixed, she'd decided to give it a wash, as Lucy was still at playgroup for another two hours. She might as well do something useful with her time.

Halfway through cleaning her car, her mobile rang. "Hello?" she said guardedly. "Oh good, it's my mystery silent caller again." She'd been getting these calls once a day for weeks now. Sometimes on the landline, sometimes on her mobile, and even changing both those numbers hadn't helped. She wasn't useless, and her skills developed on the grid hadn't completely gone to waste, but the phone couldn't be traced. It was a pay as you go mobile phone, bought in cash and her numbers were the only ones called from that phone. It'd been bought in south east London, but the CCTV had been out of order, which she didn't know if it was coincidence or forward planning.

Because of the silent calls, she'd had the security upgraded and was keeping a closer than usual eye on Lucy. The only reason she was still going to playgroup was that Lucy would feel like she was being punished if Ruth pulled her out. And a silent caller was not going to effect her daughters life like that.

"Still there?" she asked. Silence. "You know, if you spoke and told me what you wanted, I might actually be able to help you." Still nothing. "No? Okay, until tomorrow then." She hung up, annoyed and started scrubbing the car with ferocity.

There was a crunch of gravel, someone walking up her driveway which she ignored. She hadn't locked the gate after the mechanic left and didn't need a tourist asking her for directions. It was clearly a private house, not a footpath, so she ignored the steps on the gravel. The stranger came to a stop and she braced herself for the "excuse me, can you tell me where…" usual lost tourist questions.

"Ruth." She whipped around as quickly as she could possibly move. She'd know that voice to the day she died. Harry. But it couldn't be Harry. Her Harry was dead. She stood, looking at him, wet sponge still in her hand. He stood taller than she remembered, wearing trousers, a light blue shirt, loose at the throat and no tie. No jacket.

"You're not real," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "You can't be real."

"Oh," he said quietly. "Aren't I?"

"You're dead," she said, her eyes glued to his. "I'm dreaming."

"Is it a good dream?" he asked, eyes carrying a small sparkle. She moved then, just a few slow steps, bringing her closer to him. She kept moving, keeping her eyes locked on his, terrified to look away in case he vanished. If she reached out to his chest, her fingertips would be able to touch him, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his face. He looked tired. Worn. Older than he had the last time she'd seen him. Thinner too. "Our child?" he asked, naked hope and desperation clear in his voice.

"She isn't here," Ruth said. "She's at playgroup."

"A girl?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"Yes," she said. "Lucy." None of her dreams of Harry had looked like this. The need, the desperation, the haunted look on his face. Her dream Harry had always been happy and easy going. "Are you… really real?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. He reached out to her and put his palm on her face. Warm, immediate, so wonderfully present. She put her hand on his chest, feeling the regular thump of his heart under her skin, steady and beautiful.

"But you're dead," she said, eyes watering with tears. "I know you're dead. I buried you."

"I'm not," he said. "I'm rather damaged, but not dead. Not yet anyway." She cried silently. The tears just couldn't be held back any longer. His lips twitched in a smile and she leant against his chest. He felt as rigid as steel, but after a moment he softened, and his arms came around her, she closed her eyes, sighing into him. He felt warm, his scent was exactly the same as she remembered. Was it possible that he _still_ smelt faintly of whisky?

"Don't leave me," she whispered into his shirt.

"Never again," he said, stroking her back and sighing into her hair. "Oh, my God, Ruth."

"Don't wake me up," she said. "I want to hold onto this dream."

"I'm never ever leaving you again," he said. "Shh," he whispered at her sobbing. He felt like crying himself, but he couldn't give in to that. If he did, he'd never stop. She smiled as he kissed her hair and never wanted to move. His arms were strong around her and he felt so solid in her arms. She couldn't quite believe it. He was here, in her arms and real. She drew back and he stroked her face lovingly. "What happened?" she asked, her eyes looking into his beloved hazel ones.

"I was captured and tortured," he said simply. "I was released about a month ago."

"A month?" she asked faintly. "Why didn't you…"

"Come for you?" he asked. "I needed help. Medical checkups, therapy. Adjusting to freedom. I'm not nearly there yet, but I just had to see you. I couldn't stay away any longer."

"You could have called me," she said. "To know you were alive."

"I did call," he said. "I needed to hear your voice but I didn't know what to say. How to tell you I was alive. I knew you thought I'd died."

"You're my silent caller," she said, the knowledge snapping into focus in her mind.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I should have come sooner, but when I was released I… malnourished, couldn't stop shaking and… worse. I wanted to be better before I found you. And our girl," he added warmly. "But I so needed to hear your voice too. Selfish."

"Selfish was saying nothing," she said, but she spoke gently. She couldn't criticise him too much after everything he'd been through. "One word."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I needed to hear your voice so badly. But it was cowardly not to say anything. I wondered if you might have… moved on?" There's the hint of a question in his voice and she forced her emotion down, choosing not to mention Chris at the moment they're being reunited, after so many months apart. He isn't important.

"Oh, Harry," she said, shaking her head sadly. "Do you really think I'd have found someone else? To share what we had? Your replacement? You know me better than that. There is not another man in this world with whom I could share the kind of love we have."

"Oh Ruth," he murmured softly. He cradled her face again, looking at her eyes. "You look tired. Have you been sleeping?"

"God, Harry! I'm fine. I'm worried about you."

"I'll be okay," he said. "Ruth, I'd like to kiss you." She smiled, and pressed her lips against his, very gently. The kiss was tentative at first, but when his arms wrapped around her, pulling her body close she smiled into the embrace. Then they both started crying, even as their lips pushed against each other. They ignored the tears streaming down their cheeks, focusing on more important things.

Breaking apart, she wiped the tears from his face, loving the close proximity to her husband. Her thumb caught the wetness and removed his tears so very gently. He smiled at her, then kissed her again. "Oh Ruth," he whispered against her mouth.

They had no idea how long they stood there, sharing gentle kisses and touches, wiping their tears away. They were interrupted by a car, coming up the driveway. Harry froze, his arms going rigid around her.

"It's okay," she said. "Just my friend, bringing Lucy home." Harry looked at Ruth, eyes wide. She realised he was terrified of meeting his daughter when he'd been away for so long. Lucy wouldn't, couldn't recognise him. And this stranger to her was her father. Ruth couldn't blame Harry for being nervous. She squeezed his hand tightly, smiling. "It'll be okay."

He smiled at her tightly. The door of the car opened, and Lucy came running to her mother. "Mummy!" She stopped going wide eyed as she saw Harry.

"Come here sweetheart," Ruth said. Lucy gave Harry a wide circle before reaching her mother, and hiding behind her legs.

"Thanks for bringing her home, Claire," Ruth said, wanting to get rid of the audience.

"No problem," her friend replied. "The car fixed?"

"Yes," Ruth said. "Thanks." Claire smiled and drove off, luckily knowing when she wasn't wanted. By this time Lucy stood looking at Harry who was completely transfixed by his daughter. He looked as if he'd been steamrollered, eyes wide and focused on the girl. His daughter.

"Who are you?" she asked innocently.

He crouched down to her level. "My name's Harry," he said quietly. "What's your name?"

"Lucy." She blinked at him and he smiled. Lucy was very blonde, but she had her mothers beautiful blue eyes. He couldn't see much of himself in her at the moment. Stunning, like her mother.

"That's a beautiful name," he said, still smiling.

"Are you staying for tea?" Lucy asked. "Mummy promised pancakes."

"I did," Ruth said, grinning widely at her family, together for the very first time.

"I think I can stay for pancakes," he said, feeling a lump in his throat. "What've you got in your hand?"

"It's for mummy," she said. "I painted a picture." Ruth took it, smiling. Lucy's "pictures" were getting better. Now they'd moved from brown mysterious smudges, and she could recognise the tree and the sun now.

"That's wonderful," Ruth said, ruffling Lucy's hair gently. "It'll go on the fridge."  
She smiled charmingly at her mother and Harry felt his heart melt. "Pancakes mummy?"

"Lets go inside," she agreed. They walked into the house, Ruth squeezing Harry's hand all the way.

* * *

**Hope I haven't disappointed anyone with their reunion! More soon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for the reviews. A lot of people mentioned the lack of photographs in the house for Lucy to recognise Harry. That is explained here.**

* * *

"I wanna flip one!" Lucy said loudly.

"It's too hot," Ruth said as she turned over a pancake. "You might get burnt."

"I be careful," she said, blinking with wide pleading eyes which made Harry smile. She was so cute and knew how to use it.

"Luce, I can't," Ruth said. Lucy stuck out her bottom lip, but that faded when Ruth put a pancake on her plate, putting a little maple syrup on it and cutting it up for her.

"Yummy!" Lucy said after a bite. Ruth smiled and put another pancake in the pan as Harry came up behind her.

"Have you got another frying pan?" he asked.

"Yes, bottom cupboard," she said, nodding in the direction. He got out another pan and asked her to put a cooked pancake in the pan which she did.

"Still want to flip a pancake?" he asked Lucy.

"Yes!" she said, getting up. Harry crouched down and let her hold the pan, his hands over hers guiding as Ruth watched, her heart full.

"So you just jerk the pan upwards," Harry said quietly. Lucy stuck her tongue out with concentration as she moved it a little. "A bit harder," Harry said. She did it again, Harry providing most of the effort and the pancake jumped in the air, landing back in the pan.

"I did it!"

"Well done," Harry said.

"Again, Harry. Please!" He smiled, helping his daughter flip the pancake.

"Got another one for you Lucy," Ruth said, putting it on her plate. She happily took her seat and started eating, as Harry put the flipped pancake on his plate.

"That'll be stone cold by now," Ruth said. "Let me make you another one."

"I've had worse things than cold pancakes over the last few years," Harry said, his eyes holding Ruth's for a moment. She looked down at the floor, and then smiled at him. It was forced, he could tell, but he appreciated the effort all the same.

* * *

Ruth read Lucy a bedtime story as Harry watched and listened from the open doorway. He'd always known she'd be a fantastic mother and it was great to see that he'd been right. Over the last three years, Lucy had clearly been in wonderful hands. Not that it'd been easy. He knew that.

"Goodnight sweetheart," Ruth said.

"Night mummy. Is that man Harry going to be staying here?"

"Yes," Ruth said after only a brief pause. "Is that okay with you?"

"He helped me flip pancakes," she said sleepily, as if that was the answer to everything.

"Go to sleep," Ruth said. "See you in the morning."

"Night night mummy." Ruth left her daughters room and looked at Harry, watching her.

"A drink?" she suggested.

"Perfect," he said, going back downstairs to the kitchen.

* * *

They took two glasses, the whisky bottle, a baby monitor and sat outside, looking at the light summer evening. "Just in case she wakes," Ruth said, putting the monitor on the grass. "She won't. She slept very well from six months old."

"You put a bench in our garden," he said softly.

"Yes," she said with a smile. "It felt right." He smiled at that.

"You haven't told her about me," he said quietly.

"No," she said. "She's not old enough to ask about her father yet, but I know the day's coming." She smiled a little. "I've been filled with dread over what I'm going to tell her."

"What about… pictures of me. Anything?"

"No," Ruth said. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I couldn't bear it. I took them down after the funeral. To look at you made it harder for me to cope. It was a reminder of what we could have had. What we _should_ have had, and it'd been torn away from us. Every time I saw those pictures, I felt hollow and devastated all over again. It made it harder and more painful to make it through the day. And I had to stay in the present for Lucy, I couldn't fall apart. I had to take them down. They're in a box under my bed."

"What about our wedding photo?" he asked gently. He didn't particularly like photos of himself but he loved a photo of the pair of them taken on their wedding day. It'd been a close up, both of them looking at the other with the love so clear in their eyes. Ruth'd just been about to lose the white flower in her hair, and he'd adjusted it, his palm going lower to stroke her face when the image had been captured.

"Apart from being imprinted on my heart?" she said, smiling. She knew perfectly well which picture he was talking about. "It's in the box with the rest of them. I needed to get through each day. I needed to think of practical things, like when Lucy needed feeding, or whether the car needed more petrol. I couldn't wallow in my grief, no matter how much I wanted to. They were a reminder I didn't need."

She swallowed and brushed her hair out of her face. "I would have told her about you. When she was older and could at least grasp the concept."

"Do either of you… visit my supposed grave?"

"I… bring her on your birthday and a couple of other times a year. This is a strange conversation." She shook her head once before going on. "She doesn't really understand. Lucy's only three, concepts like death are beyond her grasp. When we visited you, she'd just run and chase the sparrows. Or pick daisies. She liked to do that a lot."

He smiled, imagining his blonde beautiful daughter picking flowers. "When's Lucy's birthday?" Harry asked quietly as he poured them two glasses of whisky.

"May 2nd," Ruth said.

"But that was…"

"Only a week after you… left," she said. "Yes, I know."

"You weren't due for another month."

"I know," she said. "There were… complications. I was induced."

"What kind of complications?" he asked, concern on his face.

"I'm fine, she's fine," Ruth said, reassuring him. "I…" she bit her lip, then continued. "I can't have any more children."

"Oh, Ruth…"

"It's fine," she said. "I didn't need more."

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"After a week in hospital, I was fine," she said. "Promise." He smiled wearily at her.

"What about you? How are you?"

"I'm okay."

"What happened to you?"

"I'm not going into the details," he said firmly. "I can't."

"You can," she said. "You don't have to, but you can. Whenever you want to."

"Thank you, Ruth," he said. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."

She smiled and rested her head against his shoulder gently. After a minute, he put her arm around her and she smiled. "I've missed you."

"So have I," he said. "You don't know how often I thought of you. How much you helped me when I was… in there."

"How did I help you?" she asked.

"I thought of you, holding out baby. I thought of our wedding day. I thought of your face in a million different expressions, and more. I didn't know, whether we had a boy or a girl. I thought of you with a boy and a girl. More to think about. And I had a lot of time to think."

"What do you think of Lucy?"

"She's so much bigger than I imagined," he said, taking a sip of whisky. "I know time passed, but I always imagined her as a newborn. Not growing. Like she was frozen in time."

"She's very blonde," Ruth said.

"With your eyes," he continued. "She's beautiful." His voice caressed the word and she smiled with pride. "Bright too."

"As a button," Ruth said. "Harry, are you going to be staying with us?"

"Of course I am," he said simply, kissing the top of her head. "Where else would I want to be?"

"I wondered if… after everything you'd want space. Time away from us and "family life." That's all."

"The last thing I want is to leave the two of you," he said. "Honestly."

"Okay," she said. "Just to get the awkward question out of the way, where do you want to sleep?"

"I can't share a bed with anyone yet," he said, an arm still around her. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

"It's okay," she said. "I understand. Do you want the bed? I'll sleep on the sofa. Really, it's fine."

"I can't," he said, voice filled with sadness. "I can't sleep on a mattress any more. All I need is a floor and a blanket." She felt a lump come to her throat, but she didn't argue.

"I missed you." He kissed her gently.

"I know." They stayed sat on the bench in the quiet of the gathering night. Neither wanted to ever have to move.


	7. Chapter 7

They sat in silence, holding hands and drinking whisky as night fell around them. Neither wanted to break the silence, at the moment being perfectly content with each others company and nothing more. What eventually disturbed them was Lucy, mumbling in her sleep on the baby monitor. She wasn't awake, but it jarred them out of their quiet companionship.

"We should go inside," Ruth said. "Get some sleep."

"Mm," he agreed. They went in the house and Ruth found a blanket and a pillow for him.

"Do you have any… things with you?" she asked.

"I've got some clothes at a B and B up the road. In case you didn't want me to stay." He seemed hesitant and nervous and she smiled at him.

"Of course I'd want you to stay here," she said. "But what B and B?" She couldn't think of one close to her house at all.

"Well, up the road is an understatement," he said. "About five miles away."

"Tell me you didn't walk here," she said in surprise.

"Of course I did. I needed the fresh air to clear my head anyway."

She smiled and wanted to hold him again, but resisted the urge. "Where do you want to sleep?" she asked to interrupt the silence, trying to pretend this wasn't awkward.

"The living room?" he suggested. As much as he would have liked to sleep in Ruth's bedroom with her, he couldn't do it. Not yet.

"Lucy'll want to watch Pepper Pig early," Ruth said.

"What's early?" he asked.

"Seven," she said.

"I'll be awake," he said. "I promise."

"I almost forgot," she said. "How you're a morning person."

"Army training I'm afraid," he said. "Go to bed. I'll be fine."

"Goodnight Harry," she said. She tentatively leant towards him and kissed him briefly. He smiled, then watched as she went upstairs. He got himself comfortable on the floor, without using a pillow. It was quiet here, a natural quiet which unnerved him. For the last few years, any quiet he had was enforced by soundproof rooms. Otherwise he had the constant noises of a prison. Even in London, alone for a few weeks before he came to find Ruth, there was still constant noise. Traffic, pub and club noises at all hours of the day and night, construction sites, 24 hour cafes. Never this natural quiet. It felt wrong and took him a long time to drift off into a doze.

* * *

Ruth went downstairs to find Harry cooking breakfast in the morning. Bacon sandwiches. She smiled at his back and passed him the framed photograph she knew he'd want to see. "I never forgot Harry," she said in a low voice. He took their wedding photograph and held it delicately, drinking in the image of himself and his wife, taken a little over four years ago. She looked as beautiful today as she had in that photo, and he loved her just as much now as he had that day.

"You haven't aged a day," he murmured, looking at her joyful face, frozen in time forever. How could any woman look at him that way? "I think I look a bit more haggard now, though." He put the wedding photo on the kitchen worktop, still staring at it as he flipped the bacon in the pan.

"Harry, you don't believe what I see in you, do you?"

"Not really," he said. "I never did quite believe my luck, and after so long…"

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry," she said. "You're stuck with me." He smiled and kissed her briefly. "You didn't have to cook," she said.

"I know," he said. "I wanted to."

"You didn't sleep well?" she asked, looking at him.

"No, I don't these days," he said. "I'm fine."

"Lucy will wake up any minute," Ruth said. As predicted, the girl came into the kitchen, yawning.

"Morning sweetheart," Ruth said.

"Mummy, I'm hungry," she said rubbing her eyes. She looked at Harry, and her shyness overcame her again, hiding behind her mothers leg.

"Come on, Luce," Ruth said easily. "You remember Harry."

"Pancakes?" she asked tentatively.

"Not this morning," he said. "Bacon?"

"Mummy?"

"I'll get your cereal," she said, knowing her daughter too well. "She doesn't like bacon," she added to Harry under her breath. He nodded, but stiffened a little.  
Within ten minutes, Lucy had eaten and was sitting in front of the TV, watching her cartoons. "I should know," he said. "What she likes and doesn't like to eat, I should know that."

"It's not your fault," Ruth said. "You didn't vanish through your own choice. It's not like you were on holiday. You have a chance to get to know her. She won't remember your absence in the years to come."

"I hope not," he said. They finished eating and Harry moved to wash the dishes.

"Let me do something," she said.

"I want to feel useful," he replied, not letting her do anything at all. His hands were in the sink, and she knew that she had to say something. The longer she left it, the worse it was going to be when Harry eventually found out.

"I need to tell you something," she said.

"Oh?" Harry asked, looking at the sink and not at her.

"I slept with another man," she said. "Once," she added. He didn't move, but his entire body stiffened. She felt completely immersed in guilt over what she'd done, but knew that he needed to know.

"Why?" he asked gently, not looking at her.

"Because I was lonely," she said honestly. "I thought you were dead, Harry. I'd never have gone near him, had I thought there was even a possibility you were still alive. I'm so sorry, Harry."

He breathed heavily, still not looking at her. "Who?"

"His name's Chris," she said. "Chris…" She bit her lip, trying to remember his last name. It was so inconsequential that it hadn't stuck in her mind. "Barrington," she added, when his name came to mind.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You couldn't remember?"

"No," she said. "It didn't matter."

He nodded then looked down at his hands. "Ruth, I almost expected after so long apart, with you believing me dead, that you might have someone else. That I might be pushed aside, and you might want someone else."

"Harry, I don't," she said softly. "It was one mistake. I don't want anyone else. I never have."

"Do you still want to be married to me?" He looked deep in her eyes, as if daring her to lie.

"Of course I do," she said, feeling a lump of emotion in her throat. "I don't want anyone else. That's not why I told you."

"Why did you tell me?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because I don't like lying to you," she said.

"I wouldn't have known," he said.

"Would you prefer that?" she asked. "For me to hide it?"

"Not in the long run," he said after a moment. "Right now, it would be nice not to know that my wife had been with another man." He moved, drying his hands on a towel, then reached for her hand and squeezed gently.

"Can you forgive me?" she asked, feeling his fingers gently run over her skin.

"Yes," he said. He smiled at her tightly and she felt the tension and fear lessening slightly. "Rationally, I don't blame you. Emotionally… it's going to be hard."

"I know," she said. "I am sorry, if it makes any difference."

"Let's just…" he shrugged uncomfortably. "Tell me the truth, was it just one?"

"Yes," she said. "One man, only once."

"Okay," he said. He seemed to retreat into himself and she mentally sighed. She knew it was the right thing to tell him, but she wished he'd be able to forget it. Soon.

* * *

**More when it's written. Hope you enjoyed this instalment.**


	8. Chapter 8

They'd driven to Harry's b and b to pick up his things, Lucy napping in the car seat as they returned to the house. Ruth looked in the car mirror, checking that she was still asleep before speaking. "What are we going to tell her? About you?"

"The truth," Harry said. "Tell her that… I'm her father." He enjoyed the feeling of those words, she could tell.

"Do you want to be the one to tell her?" she asked. "Because sooner or later, she's going to start questioning it. Especially if you're staying here permanently."

"I'd love to tell her," he said fervently. "Truly." She smiled at him. "Actually, I'd love to spend some time alone with her. If that's all right with you."

She paused. The Harry she used to know, she wouldn't hesitate leaving alone with her daughter. The man who'd been tortured for three years… she was less sure of.

"I won't snap," he said, reading her mind. "It's why I didn't come straight back here after I was released. I needed to be sure I wouldn't."

"Okay," she said. "Not long, though. Because as much as I love you, and as much as I know you adore her, she doesn't know you yet. She needs to get used to you."

"I know," he said. "I won't hurt her, Ruth. I'd die before I let anything happen to her."

"I trust you," she said quietly. He looked at her as she pulled the car into the driveway. She parked, but left the engine running. "She'll wake the second I switch it off," Ruth added.

"She's beautiful, Ruth," he said. "I don't know how you did it, raising her alone for three years." She smiled, looking at their daughter in the mirror.

"I did it because I had to," she said. She squeezed his hand gently. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you?"

"Yes," he said. "I'll never be able to keep it away from you. It's going to become a part of who I am. Just… not yet."

"Okay," she said.

"It wasn't all bad," he said. "The last year or so was almost like being in prison, rather than being tortured. There was no more information to get out of me, but they didn't want to just let me go. So the beatings mostly stopped, the electric shocks and the water torture all stopped and I sat in a cell, thinking of you."

"I don't know what to say," she said. "After all that time in Thames House, the things I've seen, the pictures of broken people that made their way over my desk, I can all too easily see what you've gone through."

"I don't need you to say anything," he said. "I need you to be here."

"Okay," she said. "Do your children know you're alive?" she asked, as the thought occurred to her.

"No," he said. "I wanted to see you first."

"You need to see Graham," she said. "He was devastated at your funeral, never having had the chance to make up with you. I think, if you both made the effort, things could be different now."

"I will talk to them both. I just need time to think of what to say."

"Harry… you…" Ruth tailed off, biting her lip.

"Tell me," he said firmly, knowing she had something to say.

"This is going to be a shock," she warned. "Just… stay calm." He nodded, his face a mask hiding his emotion. He didn't know what he was about to hear and needed to keep impassive, just in case it was disastrous news. "Catherine is six months pregnant." His eyes went wide, and Ruth had a strong suspicion that if he'd been in the drivers seat, he'd have crashed the car.

"She's…" he murmured, voice faint. "Pregnant?"

"Yes," Ruth said. "Sorry I didn't tell you, it's been a whirlwind since you came home. It didn't occur to me until just now."

"But… is she married?" he asked.

"No."

"Who's the father?"

"I have no idea," Ruth said. "She's not telling, and I didn't press the issue."

"Okay," he said, looking out the window into the middle distance. He was shocked, beyond shocked. So much so that he couldn't think of anything to say, and there was total silence except for the low hum of the engine.

"Oh God, Ruth," he said. "How much have I missed?" He put his head in his hands, crying and Ruth felt completely useless. She reached for him, rubbing his back gently as he fell to pieces.

"I'll call her," she said. "Prepare her for the shock."

He nodded, breathing hard as he wiped his tears away. "You could have prepared me for the shock," he said, a slight smile on his face. She smiled back at the familiar look on his face, knowing that beneath the trauma he'd been through, her Harry was still there.

"I'm sorry," she said, sincerely. "I should have… prepared you."

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked. "Do we know yet?"

"She told me it's a boy," Ruth said gently.

"A boy," he repeated to himself. "A grandson." She reached for him, squeezing his hand softly. Much to her surprise, he turned to her and kissed her so gently, in a way which was almost seductive. After the beautiful and all too brief kiss, he pulled back, before gently touching her bottom lip with his thumb. She shivered at the touch and sighed as his palm cupped her face. His skin was warm and comforting against hers. It took no more than a moment and then the connection was gone, as Harry leaned towards the keys in the ignition, and turned the engine off.

As Ruth had predicted, as soon as total silence fell, Lucy blinked blearily around, returning to wakefulness. "We're home!" she said as she saw the cottage.

"Yes, we are, Ruth agreed. "Lets go inside."

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews. The next chapter will be up when I have the chance to write it!**


	9. Chapter 9

That evening, Harry could hear the distant sounds of Ruth giving Lucy her dinner, while he locked himself in the bathroom. He really wanted a shower, but he'd found that it could be a trial to willingly submerge himself in water. It was very much a force of willpower, which sometimes he just didn't have, and gave up. He wanted to think it was getting easier, but he wasn't entirely sure that it was.

He stared at the bathtub, two images at war in his head. He had a vivid memory of Ruth in this bathtub, about five months pregnant. She'd been absolutely glowing as they both sat in the warm water. It'd been a tight fit, even in the generous bath with the three of them, but it had been a highly entertaining evening, even if half the water had ended up on the bathroom floor. That beautiful image was warring with the memory of him being suffocated in ice cold water so often, he genuinely thought he was going to drown.

"Breathe Harry," he said to himself. "Just breathe." He leant over the bathtub, holding on as if for dear life as he tried to clear his mind. It worked, but only after a long mental struggle. It was enough for him to have a quick shower, then dry off without any more torturous images invading his mind.

Hanging on the back of the bathroom door was Ruth's dressing gown. He pressed his nose to the fabric, inhaling her scent. He was a little afraid of getting too close and intimate with Ruth, and that he knew would fade. He still wanted her, but worried that if he had sex with her now, he'd only be using her to forget himself for a few blissful minutes. It wouldn't be the same as it had been before, and it certainly wouldn't be right. He refused to use her like that.

He dressed, and left the bathroom, surprised to see the house in darkness. He'd been much longer than he'd thought. He walked along the hall, until he came to Ruth's bedroom. Their bedroom, he supposed. A light was on, he could see it under the door, so he knocked once and pushed the door open.

She sat in bed, reading a book but slipping in her bookmark when she saw him.

"It's late," he said simply. "I didn't realise."

"Yes," she said.

"Why didn't you…"

"What?" she asked. "Disturb you?"

"Well, yes," he said.

"I wasn't going to do that," she said. "I wasn't going to fall asleep either in case you needed me, but I didn't want to intrude." She spoke softly and it hit him like a wave just how much he'd missed her. Missed her calm steadying presence, her soft gentle voice.

"I've missed you," he said, voice full of feeling. She smiled and sat up.

"You could sleep in here," she said. "Even on the floor."

"I can't," he said. "I just… can't. Not yet. I'm sorry."

"No," she said. "Don't apologise." She yawned and blinked once or twice. "I'm going to sleep."

"Goodnight Ruth," he said.

"Night."

* * *

Harry slept well, and awoke to a pair of blue eyes staring at him, very closely. His heart gave an unpleasant lurch, before he recognised Lucy.

"You're sleeping on the floor," she said simply.

"Yes," he agreed, sitting up and rubbing his face to try to return to his senses.

"That's strange," she said, blinking at him innocently.

"I suppose it is."

"Lucy, don't disturb Harry," Ruth's voice said, as she came through the open door.

"It's fine," he said, seeing Ruth's worried face. "I'm fine," he added. She smiled at him in a way which warmed his heart.

"Come on, Luce. Let's leave Harry alone and come and have your breakfast." Ruth left him alone to get dressed and he joined his family in the kitchen as Lucy finished her cereal. He moved towards Ruth and gently kissed her cheek.

"Can I take her out today?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Ruth said after a moment. "Just an hour though. Let her get used to you a bit."

He turned around and saw Lucy watching him as if she knew she was being talked about. "Do you want to go to the park?" he asked.

"Yes!" she burst out with a wide smile which had Harry grinning.

"It's just down the…"

"I remember where it is," Harry said, eyes intensely staring at her. She blushed and looked away, but she knew exactly what he was remembering.

_"I need to sit down," Ruth said breathlessly as they saw a bench. "God, I feel so tired these days."_

_Harry smiled at her, putting a protective hand over her pregnancy bump. "You've still got a few months yet."_

_"Don't remind me," she said darkly, making him laugh as they sat down. The bench was in a small children's park, which seemed a bit old, abandoned and run down as it was nowhere near any houses except their own._

_"In a few years our son will be playing here," Harry said, kissing her behind her ear gently._

_"No he won't," Ruth countered. "Not until the council changes the swings. They're covered in rust."_

_"You're going to be a protective mother, aren't you?"_

_"I've seen too much, Harry," she said. "Yes, I will be." She gasped, grabbing Harry's hand as the baby kicked somewhere underneath her ribcage. He smiled as he felt the movement of their child. The novelty hadn't yet worn off, and every time the baby moved, she felt obliged to grab Harry's hand and press it to her stomach._

_When the movement subsided, Harry kissed her deeply, wrapping his arms tightly around his wife. He couldn't imagine life without her, couldn't even remember what it felt like to not be in love with this remarkable woman. "I love you," he said. She smiled at him, but didn't reply. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes in happiness as his arm went around her._

_"Do you know something?" she asked. "I'm so happy."_

_"Good," he said. He kissed her hair, then continued as she shifted, kissing her temple, her cheek and moving lower he kissed her neck. Ruth breathed heavily, and shied away._

_"Not in public," she said._

_"There's no one here," he murmured, carrying on as she sighed against him._

_"Oh God, Harry," she whispered. He laughed against her collarbone as his hand slipped under her blouse, stroking the round of her stomach in a way which made her skin flush and her heart race. "We're still in public," she reminded him as he sucked her earlobe._

_"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, vocie reverberating through her._

_"Oh, never."_


	10. Chapter 10

Lucy squealed in happiness as the swing went higher. Harry smiled at her childish joy, hating himself for how much he'd missed of her life. It wasn't his fault, but that didn't seem to make a difference to how he felt. Slowly he stopped pushing the swing as hard until Lucy was just swinging gently in the breeze.

"You stopped?"

"Yes," Harry said with a smile. Lucy stood up on the swing and Harry instantly felt the need to grab her so she wouldn't fall. He resisted as it looked like she did this often, but walked closer to her so he could catch her if she lost her balance. Lucy tilted her head to one side, looking at him.

"You're here all the time now," she said.

"Yes, I am," he agreed.

"Are you going to live with us?" she asked.

"If that's okay with you."

"Yes. Mummy doesn't cry when you're here," she said, much to his surprise.

"She's been crying?"

"Mummy always cries," Lucy said with a shrug which made her seem a lot older than she was. "In the bathroom when I go to bed."

Harry had no idea what to say to that. A little girl had left him completely speechless. When he got his senses back, he picked her off the swing and took her to the bench, both of them sitting down. The park had been renovated since he'd last been here with his pregnant wife, and it now looked bright, child friendly and not a spot of rust anywhere. He wondered if Ruth had used her influence to have it renovated.

"I've got to talk to you about something grown up." Her eyes popped open, bright and alight with interest.

He couldn't think of any way to do this gently, and a child wouldn't pick up on subtlety either.

"I'm your dad."

"Okay," she said simply. "Can I go on the roundabout?"

"Do you know what me being your dad means?" he asked gently.

"Well… Matthew has a daddy. He drives a tra-or."

"Tractor?" Harry suggested.

"Yes, tra-or," Lucy said. "Julia has a daddy. But Chloe doesn't have a daddy. Susie doesn't have one. Jamie and Lizzie don't either."

The way she was speaking, it seemed like having a father was a possession, rather than anything relating to family. Ruth had been right, in that Lucy didn't really understand what a father was. She wasn't old enough. Maybe that was a good thing. When she was grown up, she wouldn't remember that there'd been a time when he hadn't been around.

"Roundabout?"

"Sure," he said. "Then home to mummy." Lucy smiled at him in a charming way that had echoes of Ruth. He carried her over to the round about and started to push it around, hearing her beautiful laughter.

* * *

"I told her," Harry said. "That I'm her father. She doesn't really understand."

"No," Ruth said softly. "No, she doesn't. I didn't lie to you, it just hasn't entered her head that she has another parent."

"Mm," Harry said.

"Are you upset?" she asked, reading his tone.

"No," he said. "I don't quite know how to handle her, that's all."

"Just love her," Ruth said with a smile. She reached up and caressed his face gently. "That's all you can do." He kissed her, intending it to be a light, reassuring kiss, but her lips were so warm and inviting he couldn't resist deepening the embrace. It became hot and frantic very quickly, with Ruth's heart racing. He put his arms around her, pulling her body tightly against his own as they kept kissing. His hands on her waist slipped lower, curving against her bum and she sighed pleasurably at his touch. He fondled her gently and she closed her eyes as her pulse raced. Harry kissed her jaw for a moment then whispered in her ear. "I still want you." His voice was low, full of desire and very seductive. She didn't need him to tell her that, she could feel his body reacting against her. "Do you still want me?" he asked, pulling back only so he could look into her eyes. He wanted the truth, whatever it might be. She knew that.

"Yes," she said. "I do want you." He looked at her for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face. She was being honest and he knew it.

"That's good," he whispered. He kissed the corner of her eye before drawing away from her, turning to look out of the kitchen window and get himself under control. She could tell without asking that that was enough physical contact for him. For now.

* * *

**Just a small chapter as the next part needs a chapter all of its own. Thanks for being patient while I was away!**


	11. Chapter 11

That evening after Lucy was in bed, both Harry and Ruth were sat in the kitchen, the phone held tightly in her hand. "I think I should tell her," Ruth said. "If she just hears your voice, it'll shock her. And I don't want to give a pregnant woman more of a shock than necessary."

"You're right," he said. "Call her." He felt incredibly nervous about talking to his daughter, and even though he tried to hide it from Ruth, he knew he wasn't being successful. Even after the long absence, she knew him too well. She squeezed his hand tightly, before calling Catherine.

The wait for his eldest child to answer felt like a long long time. "Hi Catherine," Ruth said eventually. "Do you have some time to talk?"

Harry could only hear Ruth's part of the conversation, and he bit his lip, waiting for her to speak. "Look, Catherine. I have something shocking to tell you. I need you to stay calm." A pause. "Your father's alive. Yes. He's here."

Ruth passed the phone over to him. "Catherine?"

"Oh my God!" she said in a squeak. "But… why aren't you dead!"

"Would you prefer it if I were?" he asked.

"No!" she said. She breathed heavily, he could hear her over the silence on the phone. "But… dad…"

"Don't cry sweetheart," he said, recognising the slight wobble of her voice.

"Are you okay?" she asked hesitantly. "After…"

"I'm okay," he said. He wasn't, but it wasn't his daughters job to worry about him. "How's my grandson?"

"Ruth told you?" Catherine said, bewildered. "Yeah, he's fine. Kicking."

"That's good," he said. He looked up and saw Ruth leaving the kitchen, so he could be alone with his daughter. He felt a rush of affection for his wife before returning his attention to the phone call.

"I'm not going to ask," he said, as she'd been about to go into a rant that the father of her baby was none of his business. "Are you happy?"

"Yes," she said. "Nervous, but happy."

"Good," he said fervently.

"I'm a bit worried that a baby will be more than I can handle," she said quickly. Harry smiled, knowing the signs. She was rambling because she was shocked, and talk was the way she dealt with it. It always had been. Graham retreated into himself with shock, Catherine liked to hear her own voice while she rearranged things in her mind.

"And I'm very shocked that you're not dead," she added.

"I'm sorry," he said. "If I could have got in contact with you, I would have. It's not like I was on holiday for three years."

"No, I know," she interrupted. "Are you… injured?"

"Not badly," he said. "Not permanently. I'll be fine."

"Well, that's good to hear," she said. "I love you dad."

"I love you too. Very much."

"Call Graham," she urged. "He'll need to hear from you."

"I will," he said.

"He'll probably rant and rave and swear at you, but it's just bluster."

"I know," Harry said. "Our problem is we're both stubborn and he takes after me in too many ways."

"I'm glad you said that, not me," Catherine said. Harry laughed for a moment. It felt good to laugh. "Dad."

"Hmm?"

"I've missed you." He wanted to reach out and hug his daughter at that.

"When can I see you?"

"Saturday?" she said. "I want to come tonight, but I need sleep."

"Of course you do," he said with pleasure. "I want a healthy grandchild."

"Mm," she said. "I can't cut out of work either. There's a lot I need to finish before my maternity leave."

"I don't want to disrupt your life," he said. "Whenever you can. Shall I come to London to see you instead?"

"No," she said. "Honestly, the flat is a tip. I've been sorting out my things, trying to get the nursery done and I just…"

"It's fine," he said. "Though tell me you're not lifting anything heavy."

"No, dad," she said with exasperation, though he could tell she loved to hear him lightly scold her. "I've got some help." There was just the slightest pause before the word help, but he caught it. The father? He thought before he could stop himself. Catherine broke his thoughts by yawning loudly.

"Get to bed," he said lightly. "You need rest."

"Bloody hell dad," she said, shaking her head. "Thirty two and you're still telling me what I should be doing!

"That's my job," he said. "You'll know soon enough."

"God, if he inherits even half of your stubborness and sheer determination, I'm going to be in trouble."

"Yes," Harry said easily. She laughed, then yawned again. "Bed."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, accompanied by a roll of eyes he couldn't see, but knew she'd be doing. "Night dad."

"Bye darling." She put down the phone and the line went dead with a small click. He felt almost a kind of peace go through him. Things were on the way to being put right and it felt soothing. He'd call Graham in the morning as he knew that conversation would be tricky to say the least. He needed some rest before he dealt with his son.

There was a soft knock on the kitchen door and Ruth appeared. "Everything okay?"

"Yes," he said firmly, smiling at her.

"Good. And Graham?"

"I'll call tomorrow," he said.

"Don't put it off too long," Ruth warned. "Catherine'll tell him if you don't."

"I know. I just need some rest before I deal with him."

"You should be proud of him," she said, sitting opposite him and grasping his hand tightly.

"What's he doing now?" It wasn't that Harry had forgotten to ask about his son, more that he was afraid of the answer. Catherine would always find a way to be all right, no matter what happened to her. To him, Graham seemed more fragile, and if he didn't ask, then he wouldn't find out that Graham had succumbed to alcoholism or his drug addiction. Ignorance is bliss sometimes.

"He owns his own business," she said, surprising him.

"Doing what?"

"He runs a restaurant," she continued. "He's the chef."

"What?!" Harry couldn't contain his surprise. That was just about the last thing he'd expected. "But…"

"Don't be judgemental," she said, warning.

"I wasn't going to be!" There was silence in the kitchen as he realised he'd shouted without meaning to. He let go of her hand, feeling ashamed of his outburst. "Sorry," he said at a normal volume. "I didn't mean to shout."

"It's okay," she said. It wasn't and they both knew it. He took in a couple of deep breaths and looked in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She smiled at him slightly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "How did he learn to cook?"

"When he was in rehab," Ruth said. "It was a distraction, but then he found he really enjoyed it. And it was something he was good at."

"That was so long ago," Harry said, when what he meant was that it was long before he was captured and tortured. And he hadn't known, which was his own fault. Maybe this was his second chance.

"He didn't think he'd get the financing for his own business," Ruth continued. "He was very surprised when it came through."

He caught her eye and saw something there. "Did you…?"

"I looked his business plan over," she said. "But it was mostly him. I just added a few edits."

Harry smiled at her. "What's the restaurant called?"

"By the Bay," she said. Then correctly read his face and added, "It's a fish restaurant. Maybe an hours drive from here, or so."

"I love you," he said out of the blue. She smiled at him. "You know what I'm thinking before I even have to say it." She moved, coming around the table to kiss him thoroughly.

"I love you too," she said. He stroked her hair and she smiled.

"I have to tell you," he said. "Before, when we'd left MI5 and I'd lost the fear that I'd lose you… I didn't say it often enough."

"You did," she said gently. "And anyway, with us… it didn't always need saying."

"I need to go into London tomorrow," he said.

"Why?"

"Erm… I have an appointment with my psychologist."

"Oh," she said after a pause. "Okay."

"I want to keep seeing him for a while. Is that… going to be a problem?"

"No," she said instantly. "I was just surprised. When you had to see one for work, you just got your rubber stamp as soon as possible and left. I thought…"

"Things change," he said. "I thought it was a complete waste of time when I was healthy. But now… I need help Ruth." She looked at him and frowned slightly. He read her look well. "I know I don't seem that different but I feel… a bit fragile."

"You do seem to be doing well," she said. "All things considered."

"I'm doing okay," he corrected. "What I want is to fit in again. I want to feel as carefree as I used to when we were first married. I want to be able to make love to you without worrying if…"

"If…?" she prompted, needing to know what concerned him.

He looked at her for a moment before continuing. "Without worrying if I can still perform. Without worrying that I can't satisfy you any longer. Without wondering if you're repulsed by the scars I now carry." She felt a wave of sadness for him and stroked his face briefly, her fingertips gently caressing him.

"Harry, you worry too much," she said lowly. "You can do one of two things. Let the worry and anxiety completely consume you, or put it away and forget it."

"It's not that easy," he said.

"I didn't say it was easy," she said. She kissed him briefly, then yawned as the silence spread out between them. There didn't seem to be anything to say, and she felt incredibly tired. "I'm going up to bed. Goodnight Harry."

"Ruth?"

"Yes?" she said, looking at him curiously. She couldn't identify the tone in his voice.

"Can I try to… share your bed tonight?"

She smiled at him and he felt the tension lessen. "Of course. I'd love it were you to sleep with me." There was nothing even remotely suggestive in her tone and he smiled.

"Good." He got up and followed her upstairs to their bedroom.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and especially reviewing. There probably won't be more until after the weekend. **


	12. Chapter 12

**I had not planned for this chapter to go this way, but oh well! Heading towards an M rating here too.**

* * *

Ruth was very careful not to touch him as they got into bed. He still wore his shirt which she thought must be uncomfortable but she wasn't about to argue with him. She wanted to keep her eyes open, to talk to him but before she knew it, she'd drifted off.

Harry looked at her sleeping figure with affection and a little envy. Oh, to be able to fall into blissful sleep so easily. The mattress felt far too soft after three years, and he felt slightly anxious sharing a bed with another person. Yes, it was Ruth and he trusted her more than anyone else in the world, but it still felt a little unnatural to be with another person.

He studied the curve of her cheek and the darkness of her eyelashes against her skin. He was very lucky in his second wife and he knew it. Not many women would be as gentle and considerate as she had been. Fewer would have welcomed him back with open arms after so long. Most would have moved on, possibly having remarried. His thoughts lingered on the man she'd slept with and he felt a twinge of unease. She hadn't mentioned it again, and nor had he because it wasn't something he liked to think about. Ruth had said it was once, and he had no reason not to believe her. She never lied to him and if she were to start now, she wouldn't have told him in the first place.

Even so, it was all too easy to imagine his wife's limbs wrapped around another man, who in his mind was both young and attractive. "No," he said to himself, trying to push the thoughts aside. He reached for her, gently touching her wrist to bring himself out of his dark imagination. Touching her warm skin helped to remind him that she was here with him because she wanted to be. He sighed and closed his eyes.

* * *

Ruth awoke with a start, her heart racing and she didn't know why. She took several deep breaths, staring at the ceiling until she remembered that she went to bed with Harry last night. She turned her head, and her heart sunk. The bed was empty. No Harry. She sighed heavily in disappointment.

"I'm here." She heard his voice from the floor and turned to look at the floor on her side of the bed. Harry was stretched out on the floor, looking up at her.

"Morning," she said, hiding her surprise.

"I wanted to be with you, but I found the mattress to uncomfortable," he said. He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it gently. It made Ruth sigh again, this time with pleasure. He sat up and kissed her gently, then deeper. She moaned against his lips, breathing heavily as he stroked her face. He sucked her bottom lip gently, before parting from her. She was disappointed, but then pleased as he moved off the floor and covered her body with his own, pushing her into the bed as he continued kissing her. She let her hands rest on his back gently, wary about touching him too intimately. Then she moaned as he started kissing her neck, lips caressing her and making her heart race. She closed her eyes as her hands slid up and entwined in his hair, pulling him closer to her skin.

"Oh Harry…" she moaned as his lips reached her collarbone, his tongue flicking out to her skin sending thrills through her. He drew back, looking into her eyes as his hands stroked her waist through the material of the T shirt she slept in. He looked at her, question vivid in his eyes.

"Can I take it off?" he asked, his thumbs gently pushing against her flesh.

"Yes, but…" She bit her lip for a moment, then carried on. "I'm not the same as I was. Before. I have stretch marks. My breasts have sagged since breast feeding Lucy. I'm not the same, Harry."

He kissed her lips gently, reassuringly and then tugged at the bottom of her shirt. She sat up, so he could pull it off and she was naked from the waist up. He suddenly realised that she was nervous about him seeing her, after so long. It had never occurred to him that she would be worried, only that he wouldn't be good enough for her.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his fingertips tracing the curve underneath her breast to her ribcage, then back to the centre. He cupped her breasts before leaning forward and kissing her flesh. She sighed as his hands and mouth loved her body, falling back against the pillows. He avoided her nipples and soon she was panting for some stimulation.

"Oh, Harry, please…" she begged quietly. He smiled against her skin, inching his way to her nipples, licking, kissing, sucking and fondling. She clutched his head as she tried to draw in breath through her heated body. Finally he sucked her hard nipple and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. Lucy was only one room away. He moved to her left side, repeating his actions and she clutched his back. She hadn't felt like this in years. This loved and aroused and alive. He drew back, blowing on her wet nipples and she shivered at the cold air on her heated skin.

Then they both froze. She hadn't remembered moving at all, but her fingers were wrapped around his erection, through his boxer shorts. His eyes were wide open at the intimate touch as were hers. She couldn't believed she'd moved that abruptly without even asking him. After what he'd been through, he needed to be in control, she knew that and she'd gone and touched him like that. She let go at the same instant that Harry said, "Don't stop."

"Hmm?" she asked.

"Don't stop," he repeated lowly. "Ruth, that felt… please touch me again." She kept her eyes focused on his as she slowly replaced her hand. He sighed and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, before returning to hers, almost black with desire. After a moment she pushed his boxers down and wrapped her hands around him, stroking him gently. He moaned and rolled onto his back as she kept running her fingertips over him.

"Harry?" she said quietly. His eyes opened, looking at her in question. "I want to taste you. Can I?" He stroked her hair gently before smiling.

"You don't have to do what you think I'll like," he said.

"I want to," she said. Without saying another word, she lowered her head and took him in her mouth. He moaned as she swirled her tongue around him, her hands wrapping around his length. He tightened his fingers in her hair as he tried to resist thrusting into her mouth.

"Oh, Ruth…" he said, his breath coming in gasps. Her warm wet mouth felt exquisite against his cock, much, much better than he'd remembered or his many fantasies. He shuddered, knowing he was close to climax already. Then she stopped, throwing a bed sheet over him and quickly hurrying into her T shirt and racing to the bedroom door in a few seconds. Then he saw why. Lucy was in the doorway, wearing her pyjamas and clutching her teddy. Harry grabbed the quilt to cover himself but he didn't need to. Ruth was already leading Lucy downstairs for breakfast. He rolled over and groaned into the pillow. He'd been so close to orgasm that it was almost painful to stop there.

* * *

_The pain is blinding. His arms are tied behind his back, he's standing naked, blindfolded and can feel nothing but the excruciating pain as his testicles are squeezed beyond baring. He screams, but it doesn't help. The pain is still agonisingly present._

_"What do you want!" he yelled. Nothing. It was as if no one was there. He's released and staggers to the floor with relief. He hit's the concrete harder than he thought, and before he can gather his thoughts his back flinches away from the crop. He knows he's being hit because he can't keep on his feet, but getting up seems like far too much effort. Another lash of the crop comes down and he groans._

* * *

"Harry, wake up." He came to with a jerk, opening his eyes to find Ruth's soft familiar face looking at him, marred with concern. A dream. He'd slipped into a dream, or a nightmare. It wasn't real. Not any longer. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said firmly, lifting his head off the pillow. He looked at her and realised that she's now dressed. He must have been sleeping for a while, then. "A bad dream. That's all."

"A bad dream or a memory?" she asked quietly. "You don't have to tell me," she added. "But I am here if you want to talk."

"A memory," he said closing his eyes. He doesn't want to have to look at her while he tells her what happened, but he has to say it otherwise he'll burst. "I was being forced to stand in a room. A cell. I hadn't slept in forty eight hours. No, probably a bit longer. Can't remember the last time I ate." He let out a couple of shaky breaths before continuing. "My arms were tied behind me, I was blindfolded and naked. They hurt me. It didn't make any sense. They didn't want anything from me. They weren't questioning me. They were just hurting me because they could. When I fell to the floor it got worse until I stood up again and got a slight reprieve. Then it would begin again."

He fell silent and after a moment opened his eyes. It took almost a minute before he lifted his face to look at hers. She hadn't run, for which he felt unbelievably grateful. It wasn't the worst that had happened to him, not by a long way, and it felt good that she still sat on the bed next to him.

"Were you expecting me to hide away in fear and disgust?" she asked him, correctly reading his face. "I may not work at MI5 any longer, but I know the horrors of this world. It will take a lot more than torture to make me turn away from you."

"What would?" he asked curiously, getting out of bed and pulling on his track pants so he was no longer naked from the waist down. "What would make you turn away from me?"

"Er…" she thought for a moment. "If you didn't want me any more. If you no longer loved me. If you hurt Lucy. If you had an affair." The silence between them was uncomfortable to say the least. Harry was thinking about the man she'd slept with, and she knew it.

"I need to know," he said.

"You do know."

"I need details. If I know then I'll stop wondering."

"Harry, it'll just hurt us both," she said, looking uncomfortable. "It won't achieve anything."

"What was his name?" he asked.

"Chris," she said. "Look, I don't ask about your previous lovers. And I know there are quite a few. Please don't ask me to share the details."

"Did he make you come?" She looked at him in shocked silence, and even he couldn't believe he'd said that.

"If you hadn't spent three years in prison under torture, I'd have slapped you for that. I thought you were dead," she reminded him, a steel edge to her voice. "Were you really celibate while I was in exile and unable to come home?"

"No," he said. "I'm sorry," he added, meaning it. "Come here." She didn't move, but he did, pulling her into his embrace. She stood against him hard and immobile. He could tell that she was still prickly and very angry, so he soothed her by stroking her hair and kissing her face gently until she softened and relaxed in his arms. "I'm sorry."

"Mummy, I want to wear the pink dress." They broke apart and he felt a surge of guilt as Ruth quickly wiped her tears away.

"Okay, sweetheart," Ruth said. "Look, your dad's going to take you to playgroup and Claire'll bring you home, okay?"

Lucy's eyes flicked to Harry in consideration. "Okay then." She almost skipped off to her room, then Harry frowned at his wife.

"I am?" he asked.

"We only have one car," she said. "And you have to get to London for your appointment."

"How do you know the times will work?" he asked.

"I… checked," she said. "I'm not spying on you, but I do have to plan ahead with Lucy. Sorry."

"You trust me to take her to playgroup?" he asked.

"Should I not?" she asked pointedly.

"I'll take good care of her," he said.

"I know."

"Mummy!" She looked at Harry for a moment before leaving their bedroom, to take care of Lucy. He sighed, then went into the bathroom, to shower and get dressed.

* * *

**I'm a bit nervous about this one, so please let me know what you think. Thanks.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry this took so long to write! I found this a very difficult chapter to get down into words. Hope you enjoy. (M rated!)**

* * *

Harry came back to their house late at night, feeling tired but content. He'd had a busy day, taking Lucy to her playgroup, then going to London for his appointment before calling Graham. Graham had been at first upset and angry, then he'd calmed down. After a long line of swearing, but still. He'd hung up pretty quickly, but Harry knew that was shock, and he wasn't too worried about his sons long term reaction. It felt good to be "alive" to all of his children again.

The house was dark as he unlocked the door and looked around. He carefully locked and bolted the front door behind him, checking on the windows before going upstairs. Ruth's bedroom door was open, but the room was dark. He looked around the doorframe and smiled. The moon was full, and her face was clear, even from this distance. Her hair was a dark mess on the white pillow, her beautiful face in profile. His eyes followed the curve of her cheek, down her neck, and then she moved, rolling over.

"I'm awake," she whispered.

"Go to sleep," he said quietly. "I'll sleep downstairs."

"No," she said, halfway between a whisper and a moan. "Come into bed with me."

He hesitated, torn between wanting to be with her and letting her sleep in peace. "Please. I need you, Harry."

He walked into the bedroom and kissed her cheek. "I'm just going to get changed and brush my teeth," he whispered. "I'll be back."

"Good," she said, closing her eyes again. He smiled at his wife before retreating to the bathroom. Within five minutes, he was looking at a sleeping Ruth again.

"Harry, get into bed," she said. "Or the floor, whichever you want."

He lifted the duvet and wrapped an arm around her waist gently. "God your hands are cold," she said, but didn't back away from his touch.

"Are you still upset with me?" he asked.

"No," she said, not wanting to discuss Chris or their disagreement in any way. "How did it go with Graham? And your therapist?"

"It all went fine," he said, not wanting to go into detail. "And now I'm home with you."

She smiled as he kissed her lips gently. "Do you know, Lucy liked you driving her," she said as he looked at her.

"She said that?"

"She said it was fun when you counted how many red cars you could see."

"She's very intelligent," Harry said. "Can count to ten already." He had a note of pride in his voice and Ruth felt like she was glowing with happiness for their reunited family.

"She misses out six every now and then," Ruth said. "But yes. She's a bright little thing."

"Does she sleep well?" he asked.

"Relatively, why?" she asked. He didn't speak, instead he slid a hand down her thigh slowly. She wore pyjama shorts, but there was plenty of naked skin against his palm. "Oh," she said in a much softer tone. "Are we going to carry on where we left off this morning?"

"I want to," he said bluntly, feeling that being subtle just wouldn't help either of them. "Do you?" he asked softly. In answer she reached down and took his wrist in her hand. Gently, making sure he kept his fingertips against her thigh, she moved his hand higher, until it rested between her legs.

"I want you," she said. He curled his fingers against her, mentally cursing the material in the way. He moved his hands until they were around her waist and he felt his mouth twitching into a smile. They lay on their sides facing each other, laying very close and he suddenly remembered their wedding night. Ruth twisted away from him to turn the lamp on, so she could see him properly.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked, stroking his face.

"Our wedding day," he said. "Or, our wedding night really."

"I'm never going to live that one down am I?" she said, smiling at him.

"Ruth, you fell asleep."

"I know," she said as his hands slipped under her T shirt, caressing her stomach and her waist. "I didn't mean to. It'd been a long day and in my defence, we had had sex twice that morning before we got to the church."

He laughed before leaning forward and kissing her deeply. He groaned against her lips as she reached for him, her hands curving around his buttocks, pulling him tightly against her. He was hard against her, and they both enjoyed the intimate feeling. "Although," she said with a smile. "I did enjoy how you woke me up the next morning."

"Oh, really?" he said, raising an eyebrow. She smiled at him, seemingly unable to stop. "Roll onto your back then and I'll repeat it." She paused for a moment in surprise, but then did as he asked, closing her eyes as he lifted her shirt and started kissing her stomach. His lips were soft, gentle and had her heart racing.

Suddenly they fumbled in the bed sheets, and within a minute she laid naked under his gaze.

"Harry?" she said, feeling a little unsure as he stilled, looking at her with his mask that hid his emotions firmly in place. She can't read him, but then he softened his expression as his fingers feathered over her hips lightly and she smiled at him. He noticed a scar on her lower abdomen. A short faint white line and he traced the length of it. He hadn't seen it this morning when he loved her breasts. But she hadn't been completely naked then, and his attention had definitely been on another part of her anatomy.

"Lucy," she said quietly. He nodded, then kissed the length of it, his lips ending up between her thighs. He paused for a moment before leaning over her, and pressing light kisses to her stomach, her hips and the top of her thighs. Avoiding her intimate folds for as long as he could. She twisted her body to try and get some stimulation, her fingers entwined tightly in his hair as he continued to press his lips against her soft warm skin. "Harry, please," she moaned. He smiled before tasting her. He hadn't quite remembered her musky arousing scent, her sweet taste. He'd spent a lot of time fantasising about her, remembering just how she writhed under him, how she reacted to his tongue on her body. Exactly where she loved being touched. His memory was nothing to the reality. Her hands were clutching at his head and shoulders as she quietly moaned against him and the sensations he was giving her.

"Ooh! More Harry…" He chuckled against her clitoris and she gasped loudly against the sensation. He shifted, pushing a finger inside her, finding that place that made her melt. Sure enough her thighs tightened around him as he stroked and licked her closer to orgasm. "Yes… oh Harry. Yes!" She bit down on her lip hard, to stop from screaming as her climax powered through her, waves of pleasure making her body arch and her toes curl.

Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes until she felt Harry's lips pressing lightly against her own. Her eyes flickered open, warm and sated. "You haven't lost your touch," she whispered.

"I'd almost forgotten what that felt like," he admitted. "To taste you. To lick you to climax. To have your body writhing under me. To feel so alive."

"Almost?" she asked with a teasing glint in her eye.

"Well, I did think about it," he said. "A lot more often than I probably should have." She laughed quietly, the sound swallowed by his kiss. She could taste herself on his lips and felt a powerful surge of desire for him. He rolled on top of her and she tugged at his boxers pointedly. Smiling, he took them off before returning to her, his erection against her thigh.

Ruth slipped her hands under his shirt, starting at the buttons. "No," he said instantly, shifting so her hands fell useless back to the bed.

"Mm?"

"Leave my shirt on," he said breathlessly, hazel eyes imploring her. "Please." She wanted to argue, but right now she wanted to have sex with her husband much more. She didn't want to ruin the moment or waste time on an argument she wouldn't win. So she gripped his shoulders tightly, the thin fabric the only barrier between their bodies.

Without another word, he pushed into her and she gasped, eyes closed as he filled her. "Ruth? Look at me," he said, a quiet pleading tone to his voice. She did. "Is this…?"

"Faster," she moaned. "There'll be time to make it last later, but now…" she never finished her sentence as he took her word and started thrusting deeply. She didn't feel completely free to moan and cry out the way she wanted to, with Lucy only next door, but it was a real struggle to contain herself.

It was over incredibly quickly. Fast, frantic, sweaty and delicious. She came with a small cry which set his body on fire, climaxing just a few moments later with a shudder. He felt completely spent and exhausted. It was a good exhausted though, and he hasn't felt this sated in an awfully long time. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her with him as they rolled over, onto their sides. He was still inside her, only just, and she was quietly whimpering at his touch.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Mmhmm," she said. She arched her hips away from him and he slipped free with a moan from both of them. "Please," she whispered. "Take your shirt off. I want you to sleep comfortably."

"Ruth…"

"I'll turn the light off," she said. She kissed his neck before leaning over him and turning the bedside lamp off. Then she moved away from him and drew the curtains, so there wasn't even a hint of moonlight in the room. God, they'd made love with the curtains open, he thought with a smile. There was a wonderful kind of freedom in that. She moved under the duvet again and started unbuttoning his shirt. He didn't move to stop her, but froze as her hands moved down his chest, removing his shirt.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Harry," she whispered. She kissed his earlobe and then he moved. He took the shirt off, feeling a little reassured in the fact she couldn't actually see him. Her hands stroked his skin, very lightly and he swallowed.

"No," he whispered after a couple of minutes. "Just… stop."

"Okay," she said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed."

"No," he said feeling more at ease now her fingers had left his skin. He wanted to get over that uncomfortable feeling of having his chest touched, and he knew he would one day. "Don't worry," he added. As soon as her hand had left him, he felt better, returning almost completely to the pleasurable afterglow of sex.

"Can you sleep?" she whispered. Her words were slurring a little, and he knew she was tired.

"I'll sleep well tonight," he said, believing it. His body felt lose and relaxed. More at peace then he'd been in months. Sex was good for him it seemed. He smiled at the thought. "Was that good for you?" he couldn't resist asking.

"My body aches. Deliciously," she said. He smiled, knowing that was good, especially the low tone she said it in.

"Sleep," he said, closing his own eyes. She kissed him lazily and her quiet, even breathing soon filled the room and he smiled. He adored his wife and that… that had been fantastic. He closed his eyes without moving to the floor. He'd try to sleep in bed tonight, curled up with his beautiful wife.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. More when it's written, though work is getting hectic again so it might be a while!**


	14. Chapter 14

Ruth awoke first, and she instantly knew it was very early. The room was still in darkness, but the barest hint of grey dawn light was beginning to creep under the curtains. She rubbed her eyes and looked to the other side of the bed, smiling when she saw that Harry still lay next to her. He'd slept next to her in bed all night, and she felt elated. So happy over a small thing, but she couldn't stop smiling. Harry lay on his side, facing her and he had a frown on his face as he slept on. Bad dreams maybe? Her fingertips were aching to stroke his face but she resisted. It would undoubtedly disturb him, and that was the last thing she wanted.

The bed sheet had slipped down his body and she could see the top of one of his shoulders, down to around his collarbone. She kept concentrating on that small patch of naked skin as the daylight kept slowly brightening the room. Was that…? It was. She reached for him, but held back at the last moment. There was a small circular red scar on the top of his shoulder, about the size of a fifty pence piece. She'd seen enough torture photographs going across her desk that she knew it was an electric burn. He'd been electrocuted. And if he didn't want her to see his chest, there was a good chance there were several other electric burns marring his skin.

"Oh Harry," she said under her breath. Then, before she even knew she'd moved, her palm rested on the wound. Harry moved instantly. His hand grabbed her wrist tightly as his eyes snapped open, as if he hadn't been asleep at all. He looked alert and angry, but his tight grip on her hand didn't allow her to move away from his skin. From the scar she'd touched.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay," he said, seemingly sincere but still not letting go of her wrist. She wriggled her fingers against his skin pointedly and he slowly let go of her. She did not move her hand away and he let her stroke it gently.

"Can you feel that?" she asked.

"Mm," he agreed softly. "A few of them have nerve damage and I can't feel anything, but this ones small."

She smiled at him then leaned forward, kissing the mark. He hadn't moved an inch.

"Harry, it doesn't matter to me," she said quietly. "Did you ever think it would?"

"Yes," he said shortly. "Because it matters to me. I want you to… be attracted to me, not just in love with me and married to me."

"Not just?" she asked. "Being married to you and being in love with you is not a small thing."

"No," he said. "I didn't mean to say it was. It's just… I still find you sexy after all this time. I'd like it to be reciprocated."

"It is," she said. "It is, Harry. You only have to look at me with that dark hazel intense…" she tailed off as he gave her precisely the look she was describing. "Mm. Like that. Harry, since you've come home, I'm not pretending I want you. I don't lie to you, and especially not in that way." He lifted her hand and started kissing and sucking her fingertips

Oh, Harry," she whispered, her palm caressing his face as he leaned forward to kiss her.

Their lips had only just touched at the start of what promised to be a thorough and enjoyable half an hour or maybe more, when there was a massive hammering on the front door. They broke apart and Harry had gone incredibly rigid.

"It's fine," she said, getting up and covering herself with a dressing gown, before peering out of the window. She couldn't see much of the newcomer from here, but knew the slope of his shoulders and the rigid stance well enough. It was mirrored in her husband from time to time. "Don't panic, it's just one of your children."

He sat up in bed, blinking at her. "Really? Which one?" he asked as the hammering resounded through the house again.

"Your son," Ruth said sharply. "I'm going to let him in before he breaks our lovely front door down." Before she could move though, Lucy walked in, eyes wide, clutching one of her teddies.

"Mummy, someone's breaking the door down!" she said, fearful.

"It's all right Luce," she said, scooping her daughter up. "Just Graham."

"Gram?!" Lucy said, eyes alight with excitement rather than fear now. She liked Graham immensely.

"Yes, we're going to let him in now, okay?" She smiled at Ruth charmingly as there was another knock on the door. "Come on then." They rushed downstairs and unlocked the door, Lucy almost catapulting herself onto Graham. He got his arms up quickly enough and hugged the three year old.

"Cor, Lucy, you're getting heavy," he said.

"I'm tallest of the girls at playgroup!" she said with pride. Graham gave her a hug and looked over her head to Ruth.

"Is he here?" he asked quietly.

"Upstairs, getting dressed," she replied. "I'm sure he'll be down in a minute or two. He wants to see you."

Graham nodded sharply and Ruth yawned as Lucy started wriggling to be put on the ground. Graham did, stroking her hair once, before Harry hurried down the stairs, pausing as his eyes rested on his son. Ruth looked between them and had to admit that they didn't look alike at all. Nothing in their features, but there was something about their posture, and certainly in their expressions of shocked surprise.

"Dad," Graham said quietly.

"Graham," he said, and Ruth knew he was hiding powerful emotions.

"Come on Lucy, you need breakfast."

Lucy looked at Graham, wanting to stay with her big brother, but she didn't argue as Ruth carried her into the kitchen. That left the two Pearce men alone in the hallway.

"Come in and shut the door," Harry said. His son still stood on the doorstep, and the early morning air flooding the house was cold. Graham moved slowly, still saying nothing and the door closed with a click. Grahams stare looked exactly like Jane's did when she thought he was lying to her.

"How are you standing in front of me?" he asked. "You're supposed to be dead."

"My children keep saying that to me," Harry said. "I was released from… prison," he added, settling on the shortest explanation possible. Where he'd been over the last few years didn't matter. What mattered was now.

"Dad, you have a nasty habit of disappearing on your children," Graham said. "If you…"

"I didn't," he said urgently, cutting off his son. "I did not willingly leave Ruth or Lucy." Graham stared at him as if trying to see whether he was being truthful or not. "I didn't see her when she was born. Do you think I'd have missed that?"

"Your track record with your children is…"

"Not the best," he said. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, which is probably not much, but I am sorry. I threw myself into my work to try and feel useful. I felt like such a useless father, and when I did get to see you, you already hated me. I thought it would be easier to stay away."

"Easier for you," Graham said.

"Yes," Harry admitted. "I am proud of you."

"Ruth told you what I'm doing?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But that's besides the point. I should have told you years ago. You're my son and I'm proud of you. No matter what happens."

"Just because you're back from the supposed dead doesn't excuse everything," Graham said.

"No," Harry agreed. "It absolutely doesn't. But you can either hang onto the bitterness, or we can have a relationship now. Nothing I do now will make up for the past. And the fact you stormed up here at five in the morning makes me think that you do too."

"Dad…" Graham said quietly. Neither of them said a word and Harry pulled his son in for a hug. He couldn't remember the last time he'd given his son a hug and felt incredibly guilty. It wasn't just his torture and imprisonment that were to blame. It was himself, and his failings as a father too.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Let's just…"

"Yes," Harry agreed, knowing what his son meant. Sometimes the Pearce men weren't the greatest expressing themselves. Especially when it mattered. He let go of his son and smiled at him. "Let's go and have breakfast. I'm sure that Ruth will have the bacon frying already."

"Speaking of, how did you ever get a woman like her?" Graham said. Harry couldn't tell if that was admiring or disparaging.

"Don't you like Ruth?"

"I think Ruth is wonderful," Graham said. "Too good for you. I just have no idea why she's so obviously in love with you."

"Well, she had a weakness for black leather gloves," Harry said before he could stop himself. Graham's face went blank for a moment, then he smiled. It had been many, many years since he'd seen his son smile. "Come and have breakfast."

"Yes. I'm starving," Graham said.

* * *

**Thanks for staying with this story even with the delays between chapters!**


	15. Chapter 15

"Mummy, why is Gram here?"

"He wants to talk to Harry," Ruth said patiently as she poured squash for Lucy and put the bacon in the pan to start frying.

"Why?"

"Harry is Graham's dad," Ruth said, wondering how on earth she'd explain this to a three year old.

"But Harry's my daddy!" Lucy said with a frown on her face.

"Yes," Ruth said sitting next to her daughter. "But Harry is also Graham's dad too."

"Oh." Lucy looked very deflated at this.

"He loves you," Ruth assured her.

"Will he still count red cars with me?"

"Of course he will," Ruth said, smiling at her.

"That's okay then." Lucy turned her attention to her orange squash with single minded concentration which reminded her of Harry when he was determined on something.

The door of the kitchen swung open revealing both men. Harry switched the kettle on while Graham surveyed them from the doorway as if he felt like an intruder.

"Come and sit down," Ruth said. "You're more than welcome here Graham." He smiled at his stepmother before sitting next to Lucy who grinned at him. He ruffled her hair, making her laugh.

"Who wants eggs?" Ruth asked the room at large.

"Runny middles!" Lucy said.

"I've got your boiled eggs on," Ruth said, smiling at her daughter. They settled down to have a nice family breakfast, and all was calm.

* * *

Harry and Graham had left the house for a walk, away from Lucy's demands so they could speak privately. Graham had gotten over the shock of knowing his father was alive, and didn't have much anger over his father's bad track record. Once Graham had been to what he _thought_ was Harry's funeral, his anger had turned into guilt. He still blamed his father for abandoning him for work, but accepted that dwelling on the past would never ever fix things. It had taken his fathers assumed death to make him see that, though.

"What happened dad?"

"I was taken and tortured," he said shortly. "For three years," he added bitterly.

"I meant more details," Graham said.

Harry sighed heavily. "I haven't spoken about it," he said.

"Not to Ruth?"

"No," he said. "I've touched on some things, but she hasn't asked." He loved that about his wife. She wouldn't pry into more than necessary, and she was patient.

"Why take you?"

"Because of my job," he said. "I know a lot of things, even after I retired, and I pissed a lot of people off."

"People?"

"Russian people," Harry said shortly. "One of the last things I did before I retire was remove three powerful Russians from their various positions." He swallowed uncomfortably, thinking of the Gavriks. "One of them was murdered by another, and the third tried to kill Ruth."

"Really?" Graham asked in surprise. He'd not heard this story, mainly because Harry and Ruth didn't like to talk about it.

"Mm," Harry said. "He stabbed her. Her lung collapsed." He pinched the bridge of his nose, as he didn't like thinking of those dangerous days. Medical assistance had been delayed, and she'd been without oxygen for several minutes. The next few days in hospital had her drifting in and out of consciousness without saying anything. Apart from a brief hour with the Home Secretary offering his resignation, he hadn't left her side. It was a surprise to him to find that thinking of Ruth's brush with death was more painful than thinking about his long months suffering under torture.

"What happened next?" Graham asked, unable to resist.

"Nothing for a long while. Russian FSB were furious with me. I cost them a international minister who's in prison for murder, a long standing FSB agent, and one of their newest protégés. As well as that, the British Russian agreement they badly wanted fell through spectacularly. Simply, they wanted revenge. Then realised that I would probably know a lot about British operations, as well as being in uproar against me personally. Some renegade agents thought they could get information out of me and sell it. They weren't official, though they probably had the backing of Russia. When I retired with Ruth, I was probably more lax with my security than I should have been. I just… I didn't want us living like prisoners."

"I'm sorry," Graham said. "I shouldn't have pried."

"It's okay," he said. "After six months, they sold me on. I still don't know who to. My… interrogators spoke English, Czech, German and Spanish. Eventually I ended up in America, and shockingly they treated me… if not well, better than others had done. They traded me back to Britain after about a year. When they didn't think they could get anything else from me. It wasn't done officially, but I still have friends in London. Once they realised I was alive, they did things through back channels." William Towers was now out of office, but had helped immensely in bringing Harry back to London. They walked on in silence for a while, before Graham changed the subject.

"Do you know about Catherine?" Graham asked.

"She's pregnant?" Harry said, smiling at the thought of his imminent grandson. "Yes, I know."

"Good."

"How are you?" Harry said. "How's your restaurant?"

"I'm well," Graham said after a moment. "And the restaurant is making quite a bit of money actually."

"That's good. Ruth and I will have to eat there one night."

"Oh, dad you don't have to."

"Yes we do," Harry said. "She says your food's delicious." Ruth hadn't exactly said that, but he was sure she would have, had he asked.

Graham looked down, but Harry could tell he was pleased. "I enjoy cooking," he said, seemingly embarrassed.

"Good," Harry said. "I'm glad you found something that makes you happy." Graham smiled.

* * *

Harry kept moaning in his sleep and at two in the morning, Ruth gave up. "Wake up," she said firmly, switching the light on and giving him a shake. When he didn't return to consciousness, she gave him a more forceful shove.

"What!" he shouted, breathing heavily as he stared at her.

"I'm here and you're safe," she said quietly. He kept his eyes on her beautiful blue ones for several minutes as his breathing calmed down. She didn't speak until his pupils had returned to their normal size, not dilated with fear.

"What's happened?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Harry, don't lie to me," she said. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine. But don't lie and say it's nothing when something is clearly bothering you. Last night you slept fine. Really well actually. Now tonight…"

"Graham wanted to know why I was taken," he said.

"And?" she asked hesitantly.

"Russians," he said. "Essentially factions within the FSB were more than annoyed with the fact that the British Russian partnership was over, that Ilya's in prison for murder, Elena's dead, Sasha is…"

"Mm," Ruth said. She still felt a slight twinge of guilt for that one. Sasha had been shot by an unidentified MI5 agent mere weeks after he'd stabbed her. He'd been supposedly going through sensitive information, but neither of them were sure they believed that. The timing seemed too close, and Ruth felt like someone had taken it upon themselves to rid them of the Sasha problem. And he had been a liability to both Britain and Russia after she'd been stabbed.

"Anyway, a lot of people blamed me for that, and there were agents who wanted both revenge, and to get information out of me. If I had to guess, I'd say none of it was official, as they can't look to be kidnapping retired agents. It would set a horrible precedent. But I also think the FSB bosses didn't mind turning a blind eye to it either."

"Oh Harry…"

"I was sold on, and eventually ended up in America. Where Towers somehow found out I was still alive, and unofficially bought me back. And then I came home."

She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. Minutes later, he stroked her hair and smiled at her, eyes twinkling and she knew that mentally he was no longer in captivity, but here with her. "And last night I slept so well because we had sex."

"Oh, was that the reason?" she said, moving closer to him now he had escaped his memories. He scooped an arm around her, pulling her body close. He wore a shirt and she sighed as she felt the warmth from his chest seeping through to her skin. She pressed her head to his shoulder and his arms became tighter around her, hands slipping under her T shirt that she wore to sleep. Soon enough his fingers found her breasts and she sighed as he started toying with her nipples.

"Harry, are you sure this is the right time?" she asked. After all, they'd just been talking about how he was captured and tortured for three years. Hardly the kind of conversation to precede sex.

"Mm," he said. "Anything for a good nights sleep," he teased. She laughed as his lips closed on hers, fingertips still brushing against her hard nipples. They moaned as lips and hands slowly explored each others bodies with delight. He kissed her neck before whispering in her ear lightly. "Can you be on top tonight?"

"Really?" she asked.

"If you want to," he said. She smiled widely, very much enjoying that position with him. He slowly and sensually took her clothes off, hands skimming over her body delightfully and she wanted to reciprocate, her hands hovering on his shirt buttons, a question in her eyes.

"Mm," he said. "Just… do it."

She hesitated a moment longer, but then straddled him, rolling her hips against him, making him moan quietly with pleasure. She leaned over him and kissed the hollow of his throat, her fingers working on the buttons as he stroked her back gently. She knew he was tense, she could feel it, but she didn't mention it. Instead she kept slowly loosening his shirt, kissing her way down his chest with her eyes closed, loving the feeling of his skin under her lips. It'd been too long since her palms had drifted over his bare chest. She could feel the different textures of his skin, the raised welts of the scars, but she hadn't yet opened her eyes. She wasn't worried about how he looked, more concerned about how he would react to her seeing him.

"Open your eyes, Ruth," he whispered. She sat up and did, looking at his face. He looked so wary and anxious about her reaction that she stroked his face gently.

"Harry… It doesn't matter."

"Don't lie to me," he said.

"It matters to you a lot more than it does to me." She ran her hands over his scarred chest, smiling. Apart from the scars she already knew of from his MI5 career, there were two dozen or so electric burns. She could tell which two had nerve damage, because instead of being small round burns, they looked bigger, almost purple and the skin cracked horribly. She put her palms over them and then flicked her eyes back to his.

"No," he said softly to her unasked question. "I can't feel that."

"The others?"

"Fine," he said.

"Mm." She ran her thumb over a long scar down the centre of his chest. It was new to her, probably done with a knife. She traced all the scars which she'd never seen before until eventually her hands rested on his hips, teasing the elastic of his underwear. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Are you?"

She nodded, smiled and kissed him, delighting in the feel of her breasts against his chest. Judging from his reaction, he was enjoying it too. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," she said. She slid her hand down his body, wrapping her fingers around his rapidly growing erection. "Now, let me make love to you."

"Excellent idea," he agreed, a wide smile on his face which warmed her heart.

* * *

**More soon, though I feel this story is drawing to an end. Maybe 3 or 4 more chapters left. Thanks for reading.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the delay! I had to completely rewrite this chapter. And as it turns out, this is the last chapter, except for the epilogue. I also have changed some medical details for my own purposes, so ignore the inaccuracy. Enjoy!**

* * *

The next few days slipped by fairly uneventfully. They settled into a routine of family life, having breakfast, playing with Lucy, going for walks when the weather was fine and taking Lucy to the park. However, the highlight of Harry's day was their evenings together. They were wonderful and treasured by them both. Once Lucy was in bed, he and Ruth would sit curled up together on the sofa and talk. Or not talk. They would discuss anything or nothing. When they came upon a subject Harry was reluctant to talk about, Ruth simply changed the conversation. Or fell quiet and ran her hands through his hair. He loved that about her. She never pushed him into talking about things he'd rather not.

More often than not, their quiet evenings together would end in sex, which now that they'd become reacquainted with each other, was becoming much more erotic. Ruth didn't have as much hesitation in touching him any longer, and he was becoming familiar enough with her body to know exactly what touches made her moan. He'd already known once before of course, but it had been a long time ago, and his memories and fantasies had blurred into one, making him unsure of himself. No longer did he feel that way. He was beginning to feel more secure of Ruth and their relationship, rather than the wariness with which he'd viewed it when he'd returned from captivity.

Harry's reunion with Catherine had gone similarly to Graham's, only a little warmer. Catherine looked blooming and happy about the prospect of becoming a mother, and it delighted Harry to see his daughter so happy. When Catherine left to return home, Harry spoke to Ruth that night.

"I thought she didn't like you," he said, getting under the bed sheets as Ruth brushed her hair in the mirror. Catherine had treated Ruth like an old friend, which felt odd, because the last time he'd seen both women in a room together, there'd been a wary distance between them.

"She didn't," Ruth said, catching his eye in the mirror. "I think she originally thought I wasn't good enough for you. That or I married you for money or something similar."

"Mm," Harry agreed. He'd got that impression too, though Catherine had never voiced her objection to Ruth. "So what happened?"

"You went missing without any explanation," Ruth said. "And I went into labour a month early in the middle of our living room floor while Catherine demanded where you were."

"She was here?"

"Yes," she said. "And I was very grateful. I think she'd realised that I married you for you. Stubbornness and sheer bloody mindedness aside. She knew that I was missing you badly, and desperately lonely without you, all the while I was trying and failing to trace you electronically. I was doing everything I could."

"Ruth, you shouldn't have stressed yourself when you were pregnant and…"

"No," she said quietly. "I had to. What would you have done were the positions reversed? Give up just because you're going to become a parent in a few weeks?"

"Fair point," he conceded.

"Anyway, Catherine and I became close because we were both so concerned over you. And then when I went into labour… she was great. Apart from doctors and nurses, she was the first person to hold Lucy."

"Why not you?" he asked in surprise. Ruth looked down at her nails for a moment and didn't look at him as she replied.

"Because I'd suffered severe blood loss and wasn't conscious for two days."

"What exactly happened?" he asked softly. "You refer to "problems" when Lucy was born, but nothing specific. You say you can't have more children but no details. What happened?"

"She came relatively quickly once it started. I'd only just been moved from the ambulance to a hospital bed when she was born. I didn't have time to even be examined and then she was here and… the amount of blood… I didn't find out until much later what was wrong. I had a condition called Placenta Increta, which meant the placenta attached abnormally, deep into the uterine muscle. Because I wasn't diagnosed before labour, they couldn't give me a caesarean which would have been the much safer option. Lucy was barely a minute old when I was put under because of severe blood loss. I didn't even see her before…"

Harry pulled her to him fiercely, needing to touch her. She turned her face to his skin and kissed his neck gently as she wrapped her hands around his waist. "I'm okay Harry."

"I know," he said. "But you might not have been." He kissed her again. "Do you have pictures?"

"Of Lucy? Of course I do."

"Where are they?" he asked.

"In a box under the bed," she said. "I kept a few of Lucy in frames around the house, but I didn't like photos any more. Once you were gone, seeing photos always reminded me that you weren't here. I should have had a picture of you holding her when she was born. I didn't have that option and it hurt. I did keep a few of her up though."

"I want to see them." She nodded and he raised his eyebrows.

"Now?"

"Mm." Ruth got out of bed without saying anything further and got the box out.  
"I really should go through these now that you're home."

"You could have done that before, Ruth," he said.

"I didn't have the heart to do it. Photographs were hard to deal with." She picked up a white album, with _baby's first year_ printed on the front in pale pink. He took it, then opened it up, trying to keep his hands from shaking. On the first page was a picture of the ultrasound. He remembered when they'd had the appointment and got that picture. They'd been asked whether they wanted to know whether it was a boy or a girl, and they'd said no. Wanting to keep it a surprise. He shook his head for a moment, before turning over the page. The next image was Lucy, newborn in an incubator.

"Ruth?"

"Oh, it was nothing," she said. "Really. Just a precaution for her lungs because she was so early. She was out the next day."

Sure enough the next page showed a tiny Lucy being held by Catherine, who was completely enamoured with the newborn baby, judging from her smile. Harry looked at the next page with a full heart. A clearly tired and ill Ruth holding their daughter. He smiled, going through the pages as he felt a calm descend on him. They'd been all right without him. He wasn't going to deny it'd been tough for Ruth, but she'd managed.

"You did a great job with our daughter," he finally said, closing the book. "And we should put some of those pictures up."

"Thank you," she said. "What we really should do is get some new ones. With all three of us."

"Mm," he agreed as her hands started unbuttoning his shirt. He still felt a little uncomfortable with her touching his bare skin. "Ruth, I'm…"

"Scarred," she said simply. "Those marks show that you suffered unbearable pain and survived." She lay her head on his chest, over his heart so she could hear the reassuring thump of his heart beat. "I love you."

"I know," he said. "I love you too."

"Sleep," she said quietly. "Everything's okay." He closed his eyes and took her advice.


	17. 2 years later

**Epilogue: 2 years later**

Harry sat in the lounge, looking out the window as the daylight faded, nursing a glass of whisky as he waited for his wife to come downstairs. Ruth was putting Lucy to bed, who was very excited for her first day of school tomorrow. No doubt it would take some time before she could leave Lucy alone. He looked around the room, feeling happy and content with his family and his life. Time had been kind to them as a family, and him especially. He hadn't suffered too badly after his torture. He still got vivid flashbacks, and there were days that he couldn't bear to be touched, but they were getting fewer as time passed. He knew that comparatively, he'd been lucky.

Lucy no longer remembered a time when Harry hadn't been around, and he was simply a boring father to her eyes, which pleased him immensely. He didn't want to be associated with secrets any longer and he felt rather pleased that he wasn't anything unusual to Lucy's childish eyes.

He looked around their lounge smiling at the photos. Ruth's aversion to photographs had faded over the last couple of years, and the room was littered with them, including photos from their wedding day. He looked over them, pausing at Ruth's favourite image. They'd been looking after Jamie, Catherine's son for the day, and he'd been around six months old at the time. Harry had been lying down on the sofa, soothing the baby to sleep when Lucy had taken great offence to her fathers attention being on someone else. She'd jumped on top of him, snuggling up to him and eventually all three of them had fallen asleep, all with an identical Pearce pout on their faces, even the baby. Ruth had walked in and snapped the picture. He tore his eyes away from the image as he heard Ruth's footsteps coming down the stairs. He poured her a glass of Chardonnay, handing it to her as she came in, smiling.

"Asleep?"

"No chance," she said, sitting on the sofa and pulling him next to her. They fidgeted until they were comfortably curled up with each other and he kissed her hair. "I'll go up and check on her in ten minutes or so."

"Mm," he said. "You know, now that she's at school all day, the house is going to be so quiet."

"It is," she agreed. "We'll manage."

"Oh, I know," he said. "It's hard to imagine there was a time I couldn't imagine my life with a baby in it. Now I can't imagine my life without her."

"That's as it should be," Ruth said simply. She sighed heavily as she curled into his body. "I'm going grey."

Harry stayed silent because there was no good answer to that. She'd had the odd hair of grey when he'd come back from captivity, but he had noticed that more and more of her dark hair was fading. "Harry?"

"Well, I'm loosing my hair," he said. "Pick your battles." She laughed gently.

"I'm feeling old, Harry," she said.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

"I know you think that, but I'm feeling old these days." They both paused as they heard a stair creak.

"Bed!" they both called at the same time, and Lucy scampered back up the stairs with a giggle. "Are you happy?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she said. "I am very happy. Are you?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm not going to pretend that I don't miss MI5 at times, because I do. Like when we watch the news and we know the story we're seeing isn't what really happened."

"Mm," she said. "Yes, I do get the itch every now and then to try and dig for the truth."

"To have you passing me the relevant information before I even have to ask," he murmured, remembering with fondness. "You were so good."

"We worked well together," she said. "We were just always…"

"On the same wave length," he agreed. "Yes. We were." She turned towards him and kissed him, intending it to be a light brush of lips. It never seemed to turn out like that though, whenever she kissed her husband. After a thoroughly enjoyable embrace, she smiled at him, stroking his face. "I love you Harry."

"I love you, too," he said. "Now, when Lucy is fast asleep, I'm going to take you upstairs and ravish you."

She smiled warmly at her husband before replying. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

* * *

**The End.**

**I'm going to be taking a break from HR fic for a while, but I'm sure I'll be back when inspiration strikes. Thanks for sticking with this one until the end.**


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